


Sail into the Sun

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Con Man!Harry, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Prince!Louis, basically louis is a closeted prince, blowjob, brief friends with benefits zouis, harry hates rich people, niall is also a con man, okey dokey here we go, really intense internalized homophobia, simon is a rat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7710154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Louis Tomlinson is sick of the closet. Harry Styles is a con man with a hatred of rich people. Louis needed a way out, Harry needed a husband. It was a mutual agreement. Doesn't mean they have to like each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bravefortheboys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravefortheboys/gifts).



> This was an absolute monster to write, but so so fun! I have to thank the gc's, they've helped me out with proof-reading and ideas more often than I can count. I hope you enjoy, and don't be afraid to leave a comment. I love feedback!  
> Title from the song 'Sail into the Sun'

From a young age, Louis was taught that love was something pure. Wholesome. Love was strength, it was magical. That love was untouched by hatred.

  
He looked back at that time with a bittersweet taste in his mouth. The hopes- and naivety- of a child.

He wasn’t that hopeful anymore. He was bitter. For, as he grew older, he learned that his type of love, the kind he felt most deeply, was wrong. It was sick and ungodly.

  
Of course, 2016 was a far more accepting time. His type of love was common- even embraced. Far more so than it had been in the past.

  
But, you see, the situation was still not ideal. There would always be people full of hatred, those who opposed love in forms other than a man and a woman. There would always be expectations.

  
Expectations, like for the Crown Prince of England to produce an heir to the throne, a child to carry on the family name. And that’s just what he was; a bloody prince- but one who preferred blokes.

  
At first, he thought he might’ve been bisexual. So that’s what he told his mother when he was only sixteen. A scared kid with shaky hands and teary eyes coming out to the Queen. She’d accepted him, more or less. After all, there was still a chance he’d marry a woman. Have a nice, conventional family.

  
Ha- fucking- ha.

  
He’d tried denial. He tried not thinking about the coy smile of the attractive Turkish diplomat, or the biceps on the waiter handing him his drink, or about how every time he got himself off he imagined a low voice in his ear and rough hands on his hips. It didn’t work. No matter how hard he tried, he could never erase that part of him, the one that would make him a freak if anyone ever found out.

  
So he kept it quiet. Only a few people knew- most of them drunk hookups that were mutual closet agreements. He didn’t trust anyone, not even his sisters. As high up as he was on the social ladder, secrets you wanted to stay secret were shared with few.  
Just because he kept it secret though, didn’t mean he didn’t feel like he was about to pull apart at the seams, like he wasn’t just going to explode at the idea of sex with a woman  
into a giant cloud of rainbow confetti and streamers. It hurt to keep stuff from his mum, his family. He was getting desperate. He considered one, very permanent, way out but- no, he couldn’t do that to the people he loved. They deserved better.

  
Louis had been told love was kind. Sweet, even.

  
Louis had never felt love. And right then, what he was feeling was definitely not love.

  
Louis had his fingers buried in inky black hair, pinkies brushing the shaved sides. Boyishly fanned lashes hooded eyes of golden toffee and wide-blown pupils. Pink lips pursed around him, cheeks hollowing to emphasize the bone above.

  
Louis moaned, too high and desperate for the likes of a prince, but then again, princes didn’t normally get sucked off by their best mate. At least, not in the fairytales.  
  
"Shit, Zayn…” Louis panted. “’m going to come.” He tugged lightly on the other boy’s hair, signaling for him to move off. His only response was a quick glance up and an odd smirk around Louis’ dick before he was swallowing down to the base. Louis came with a jolt of his hips and stars exploding behind his eyes.

  
Zayn moved up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He laid on his back next to the other boy- who was still recovering from his orgasm.

  
Zayn reached over to the nightstand to retrieve a cigarette and a small blue lighter.  
“Want a drag?”

  
Louis nodded as Zayn lit the ciggy and passed it to him. He took a deep breath, the chemicals burning his throat. The smoke he blew out was slightly blue, floating up toward the darkened ceiling. He passed the cigarette back.

  
Everything was quiet. It was early morning most likely, based off the darkness seen outside his window. Everyone else in the palace would be fast asleep. Louis wished he could fall asleep. Instead he felt like vomiting. His skin was crawling and itching with guilt, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and cease to exist.

  
“So,” Zayn said, his hoarse voice breaking the silence. “Is your mum still on your case about finding a bird?”

  
“What?”

  
“Last time we did this, she had introduced you to that duchess, what was her name? Danielle? The time before that she’d been dropping hints about grandkids the whole week. We don’t do this unless she’s been bothering you.”

  
Louis turned to face the other boy, mouth set in a hard line. “Yeah, I guess so. She’s introduced me to this girl- some rich guy’s daughter, I don’t know- and she’s set up a date. I get to go spend an hour attempting to woo a girl who I’ll never have interest in.”

  
Zayn took a long drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke towards the window. “Oh, well, that sounds lovely. I’m sure you’ll get along just peachy”

  
Louis punched his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

  
“Hey!” Zayn squawked, kicking Louis’ shin. “Oh no, you’ve almost smiled. Careful now, Lou, don’t want anyone thinking you have any kind of joy in your life.”

  
Louis pouted, turning away from him and crossing his arms. “Fuck you. I smile. People love my smile. There are poems dedicated to my smile.”

  
“Well, Lou, you can’t exactly say you’ve had the sun-shiniest of souls lately. You haven’t been quite yourself for some time.”

  
Louis kept his back turned, slightly curling into himself.

  
It was true. He’d been in a foul mood for months now. He’d known it since he’d first snapped at that poor valet at some party awhile back. He’d tried to apologize later, but the damage was done. Poor lad was skittish as a mouse around him. Louis knew why he was this way too. Since his birthday, his mum’s been on his case about finding a girlfriend, life partner, mate etc. It was driving him up the wall. His mum meant well, and the girls had all been lovely, but… they’d never be more than friends. He didn’t know how much longer he could let himself live like this.

  
“Why don’t you just tell her? Jay’s one of the nicest people I’ve met, I doubt she’d love you any less.”

  
Louis sighed, pulling his legs up and slipping them under the comforter.  
“I can’t do that to her, Z. Fuck, she’s so set on me having my own kids and giving her ring to my future bride. She’s already picked out the bloody colours for the nursery. When she was talking about setting me up on that date today, she looked so fucking hopeful. I can’t take that from her. I can’t.”

  
“So, what, then? You’ll keep it a secret until she dies and you don’t have to marry? Or let yourself marry one of the aristocrats she sends your way?”

  
“I don’t know!” Louis shouted, rolling onto his back. He looked over at Zayn. The boy’s previously lust-driven eyes were full of sympathy and concern now. “I don’t know. Just… don’t make me worry about it tonight, alright?”

  
“Alright. Let’s… let’s get some sleep.” He put out the cigarette in the small crystal ashtray on the nightstand.

  
“You’re the best, Z. Best mate I could ask for.”

  
“Damn well better be,” he grumbled, burying his face in the pillow. “If ‘m giving you blowies every time you have to talk to a girl.”

  
Louis snorted. “I need to combat the heteronormativity somehow. Plus, you love it. This was your idea.”

  
His only answer was Zayn flipping him off over his shoulder.

  
Louis chuckled and snuggled down further in the sheets, yawning.

  
Maybe what he was feeling was love. But it certainly wasn’t the kind of love his mother wanted- or the kind he craved.  
*  
In all his years performing his formal duties as a prince, there have been only two obligations that he hated. The first were the etiquette lessons he had to take when he was younger from a crotchety old woman named Mrs. Myrtle who used to slap his wrist with a ruler every time his posture wasn’t perfect or he got lippy with her.

  
The second was the Queen’s daily meetings. Basically, the queen listened to one duke or aristocrat or another complain about whatever the topic of the day was and beg for money or favor. She’d either send them away back to their mansions or grant them whatever they wanted with a nod of her head. Regality in its finest.

  
Louis, as the crown prince, was required to attend these meetings, as they would one day be his responsibility. He spent most of his time during these daydreaming and lounging back in his throne to his mother’s right, his legs crossed and his eyes unfocused. Occasionally when the topic was to his interest he’d offer his opinion and input. It was really quite dull.

  
Some old duke was prattling on about something irrelevant- sidewalks, he thought. His face was bright red like an incredibly loud and sweaty tomato. Who knew one could be so passionate about public walkways. Even his mother, a normally patient woman, was beginning to sigh exasperatedly.

  
“-And another thing! Those damn kids need to learn that royal property is not-“

  
“Thank you, Duke Bartleby. Your complaint will be taken into account.” His mother interrupted, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “Have a lovely day.”

  
Louis stared at his mother as the man grumbled a ‘and you as well, Your Majesty’ and exited. His mother never cut anyone off. Ever.

  
“Mother?”

  
She gave him a look. “Normally, I’d say patience is the most important thing a ruler can have, and to be kind. But, sometimes, you just need to tell people to shut the hell up.”

  
Louis gaped at his mother’s words, fish mouthing with his eyebrows scrunched together.  
His mum gave him a secretive smile, one which Louis returned. He opened his mouth to respond to his mother’s candor, but was cut off by the sound of the large doors at the end of the hall opening.

  
The man who strolled inside oozed regality. You could see it in the way he walked, holding his head high and taking long strides. His gaze was something confusing- his eyes were such a pale green he thought he might be able to see right through them, but his gaze gave nothing away. Dark brown curls stopped just below his shoulder, framing an angular jaw that could’ve been made from broken glass. Lips could’ve been painted by Van Gogh, so vivid they could be candy. His suit was a white and black floral print and a yellow flower for a bowtie. Oddly flashy for a politician.

  
The man gave a toothy, dimpled grin upon approaching the Queen before taking a bow and clasping his hands behind his back.

  
“And…Who are you?” his mother asked, not unkind but still with a trace of boredom.

  
“Ah, of course,” he said. “I am François Valls. I am the French correspondent to one of your dukes, Monsieur Wellington.” The man’s voice was low and clear, a thick French accent punctuating his words.

  
“Ah, well, Mr. Valls, what is it you ask of me? I hope you are aware I hold no power or jurisdiction over France.”

  
“Yes, yes, I ask not for your political help. I am here to ask for your aid in funding.”

  
He almost snorted. Who wasn’t?

  
“And what,” Louis said boredly. “Would you have us fund?”

  
The man shifted his gaze to the prince, a fake-looking smile that appeared more like a Cheshire grin. “My prince, I am the founder of a group who transfers refugees to permanent homes. We set them up with jobs, places to live, guide language and culture lessons. We try to find these people some peace of mind, and some safety.”  
His mother’s face softened. Louis wasn’t buying it. The man’s face didn’t hint at any memories, no remorse passing his features..

Those who had truly experienced that kind of hurt and suffering didn’t speak of other human beings like they were addressing a dropped ice cream. He knew what it was supposed to look like. He’d seen it on his mother’s face enough.

  
Louis narrowed his eyes on the Frenchman’s cold stare.

  
His mother cleared her throat and stood. “If you’ll give me a moment, Mr. Valls, I must discuss this with my advisors. Is there an amount you had in mind?”

  
The man’s smile widened. “I will rely on the generosity of Her Majesty.”

  
His mother nodded and excused herself to her study, leaving the two of them in the marble room, François looking around and whistling quietly.

  
Louis stood and smoothed down his white button-down, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

  
“If you’ll follow me, sir.” Louis said coldly, beckoning him with a finger. He led the taller man into a private office, currently unoccupied. Bookshelves lined the walls and a mahogany desk sat in the center. He allowed the man to go in first before shutting the door.

  
“Bullshit.” Louis said blankly, crossing his arms and leaning against the door.

  
“Pardonnez moi?”

  
“I said: Bullshit. Your French accent is sub-par at best and nobody- and I mean nobody-“Louis ground his teeth and set his jaw. “can look that… serene if they’ve actually seen those families, those children. So, con man, who the fuck are you?”

  
The man blew out a breath, looking away and combing long fingers through his curls.  
“I suppose my French accent could’ve used a bit of work. Granted, I did only have a month to learn it, and get past all the paperwork and the initial interviews.” He looked back at Louis then with a grin. All traces of his accent were gone, replaced by his obviously natural British tone- slow and careful. If turtles could talk, Louis imagined that was how they would sound. “Should’ve counted on the ever intuitive Prince Charming. You know, they said the prince was smart, and the whole world knows his cheekbones can cut diamond, but they never mentioned his bum was as perky and perfect as it really is. Then again, words wouldn’t do it justice.”

  
Louis narrowed his eyes, seething at the comment. “Your name, before I call my security in here and tell them you assaulted me.”

  
The man lifted his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, no need to be hasty. ‘M Harry. Styles, that is.” He stuck out a hand for the prince to shake.

  
Louis ignored it. He’d begun to form an idea. A stupid, crazy, absolutely mad idea.

  
“So, Harold. You’re a con man. Tell me, you must be very good at changing identities, no?”

  
Harry narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Why do you ask?”

  
Louis stood up and started to pace, chewing his lip. Was he really considering this? Fuck. “Now, say someone wanted a new life, get a new name. A place to start fresh. Would you be able to… help them?”

  
Harry scoffed, the volume and the suddenness making the prince jump. “Don’t tell me. The little prince wants to run away from home?” Louis looked away, suddenly very interested in the grain pattern of the wooden desk. “Well, isn’t that a laugh. His Highness should appreciate what he has.”

  
Louis turned on him, his lip curled into a snarl. “I’m thankful for everything I’ve been given! I don’t even deserve most of it. It’s not the living conditions and the steak I’m running away from.”  
‘  
Harry put a pondering hand up to stroke an imaginary beard, pretending to be deep in thought. “Alright then. It’s not the living conditions that are the issue. Is it the people? I mean obviously there are people who are going to miss you.”

  
Louis stayed silent. He hadn’t addressed that yet.

  
“Not the people, then. Let me guess… You’re being forced to marry someone you don’t want to?”

  
Louis didn’t answer. How old were those books? They looked awfully old. No label. Probably meeting minutes or law books. Something boring. Still more interesting than answering that question.

  
Harry snapped his fingers, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. “Ah, so that’s it. Really, I didn’t expect it to be so… stereotypical ‘prince charming’. Tell me, why do you think I should help you? I could get arrested for that. It’s illegal, you know.

  
“You know, I could yell right now and have you taken to jail. Maybe that will give you incentive.”

  
Harry quirked an eyebrow. “You let me keep whatever the Queen gives me, and you have a deal.”

  
Louis grimaced. He really hated this guy, Harry. Hated letting him do this to his mum more.  
“Done.”

  
Harry grinned widely. “Pleasure doing business with you, Your Majesty.”  
*  
Harry ended up walking away with fifty thousand pounds. It made Louis sick. He felt like he needed a shower, to rinse off the betrayal.

  
That night, that was what he did. He turned the water temperature to scalding and scrubbed his skin until it was raw and pink.

  
Fuck. He was really fucking doing this. He was going to run away from his life- from his sisters, from his mum, from Zayn. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to go without them.

  
He’d come back someday. After he found himself a nice husband and got to experience life like a normal person.

  
He got dressed and quickly packed some clothes. It was mainly plain stuff- hoodies, jeans and single colour shirts, his old beat up Vans. Wearing his finest designer suits wouldn’t exactly help him blend in. He put all his belongings and the stack of bills meant for food and finding a place to stay into a nondescript black backpack.

  
He’d spent his whole life in the palace; finding an exit where he wouldn’t run into security wasn’t an issue. He was suddenly very grateful for the endurance exercises his trainer had suggested.

  
By the time he made it to a street where he could hail a cab, he’d started to sweat through his maroon t-shirt and black skinny jeans. He’d situated a baseball hat low on his face, praying he wouldn’t be recognized. He was still jumpy, whipping his head around every time he thought he heard his name.

He’d been out before, in the main city, of course he had. He’d been out clubbing with Zayn and a few others. It was just… before he’d had bodyguards, and the paparazzi had been all over him. He’d just never gone by himself.

  
A thousand people around and he still felt utterly alone.

Louis shook his head disgustedly. He wasn’t going to become a sappy little shit. Not now. He needed to be strong. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He was determined to avoid making his life into a fairy tale.

  
Harry had suggested a motel in a decrepit little neighborhood. It was shitty, really. The kind of place where people go to pay for love and a quick high.

  
It was the same kind of place where he had lost his virginity- at least with a guy. The kind that always made him feel like he needed to wash his body in bleach just to get clean.

  
The room he was given was dark, the sheets on the queen sized mattress starting to fray. It smelled like old mothballs and weed. Louis knew that if he were to shine a black light over the room he’d come up with too many stains on the bed to just be from spilling drinks. He shivered.

  
He found himself throwing his bag on the floor and sitting restlessly on the bed. What was he supposed to do now? Anyone he might have contacted for entertainment would be someone he wouldn’t be able to talk to for a long time, if he wanted this whole plan to work. Besides, he had left his phone at the palace, the only thing he had now was a simple burner cell with Harry’s number programmed in it.

  
Harry. The goddamn cocky prick. Louis hated him. He didn’t even really know the bloke and already the thought of him brought Louis’ blood to a boil. Maybe he was just using the con man to direct his anger at someone other than himself. Or something. He thought he read something about that in one of Zayn’s psychology books.

  
Whatever. The guy was still an arse. An arse that Louis had to meet at a tiny little café the next morning to get his new ID. His new life. Jesus, he was terrified.

  
He turned on the straight-out-of-the-2000’s TV, if only for some white noise. The room was still dark- he’d neglected to turn on the light when he walked in. It was menacing, both the room and the darkness. It reminded him of when he was a kid, when every shadow was a monster and every noise was a murderer.

  
He missed being a kid. He missed thinking that happy endings were real and that the world was a good place.

  
Louis chuckled sadly to himself and ran a hand over his face, tossing his baseball cap on the floor. God, he was going to be a jaded old man before he was even thirty. He’d end up like Duke Bartleby- crotchety and cruel before his time, only gayer.

  
At least he still had his sense of humor. That was one thing he hadn’t left behind- unlike the rest of his life.

  
He was really going to miss his sisters. They’d probably all be a foot taller the next time he saw them. He was going to miss Zayn too. His best mate deserved better. Louis felt like a coward.

  
He was a coward.

  
He was going to miss his mum too. Despite her constant need for him to find a girlfriend, she was still his mother. He still remembered all the nights she had kissed his forehead and sent him off to bed, or read him stories after a nightmare. Leaving was hard, but staying would have been worse.

  
He didn’t sleep that night. He didn’t try to. It would have been impossible anyways,  
Where was he even going to go? Louis rubbed his eyes and sighed. He really should’ve thought this through. He could try America, Texas or somewhere south. He guessed there wouldn’t be many people who could recognize him there.

  
That night, he lay back and stared at the ceiling till his eyes burned. He didn’t cry. Princes didn’t cry. But, if a few tears found their way out, then nobody had to know.  
*  
The café he met Harry at the next morning was nondescript and tiny, tucked into the back alleyway behind a bookshop with the only patron being an older man dozing off into his newspaper with his glasses slipping down his face. Louis walked in and quietly ordered himself some tea and a scone before finding a seat in the corner, surrounded by bookshelves. The lighting was dim enough that the whole room felt like it was plunged in shadow, except for a few spots lit up by low-hanging lamps. For ten a.m., it sure felt a lot like midnight in there. He didn’t really anticipate Harry to choose that kind of place. He’d been expecting something more along the lines of the drop off sites he’d seen in movies- like a package taped to the underside of a bench in a special park, or a key to a post box left with the cashier to give to him. This place felt almost…homey. Welcoming.

  
When Louis had first arrived at the little shop, he’d double and triple checked the message the con man had sent him early that morning. Finally he’d just shrugged and gone in, escaping the London rain and damp into the warm café, where the smell of fresh coffee and baked pastries filled his senses.

  
He sat waiting at his table for Harry to arrive. He’d nibble at his scone and pull his baseball cap lower over his eyes, praying that the snoozing man or the bored-looking barista wouldn’t get it in their heads to take an interest in him and find out that he was royalty. Being recognized was really not something he wanted to happen. What he did want to happen, however, was for this Styles bloke to hurry the fuck up and get him his papers so he could get a head start on that whole ‘starting a new life thing’.

  
Finally the leggy, green-eyed boy in question appeared, with the cowbell above the door giving a little clang as he entered. He had dressed down quite a bit from the floral suit he’d been wearing the other day, but then again what would Louis expect when they were supposed to be keeping a low profile? He was wearing impossibly tight black skinny jeans that clung to his thick thighs like they had been painted on. He had a simple grey jumper with a beanie covering up his curls, a few of the dark ringlets falling out and framing his wide jaw. If Louis didn’t know he was a twat, he would’ve tried to pick him up with his princely charm. Or at least, fantasize about those thighs and those downright monstrous hands. Unfortunately, he knew Harry better. The prince greeted Harry with an eye roll at his slight little wave and took a condescending sip of his tea. He didn’t know if sipping tea could be condescending, but like hell he’d try.

  
The man went to order and brought back tea for himself, sitting down across from Louis.

  
“You’re late.” Louis grumbled quietly. “Your message said to meet fifteen minutes ago.”

  
Harry scoffed, glaring at him. “What? Is the princeling not used to having to actually wait for something instead of his mummy dearest making sure her little boy gets everything he wants?”

  
“Don’t talk about my mum like that.” Louis snarled. “I may not be able to call the police on you, but I can still give one hell of a fight.”

  
“What, all four inches of you?”

  
“You really shouldn’t talk about your dick at the table, babe.”

  
If looks could kill, Louis would be dead. Harry’s eyes were sharp as daggers, a small angry fire burning behind them.

  
“Oh, the royal pup has a bit of bark to his bite. Aren’t they supposed to teach you manners at whatever posh etiquette school they sent you to? Very bad for PR to treat of your subjects like this, you know.”

  
“They do teach manners, but really I only bother to use them on people actually worthwhile, and not arseholes with a striking resemblance to Tarzan and a hairline like a parabola.”

  
“Do you want the fucking papers or not?!” Harry growled loudly, causing the barista to send them an annoyed glance up from his phone. “Cause if you piss me off I promise I will march straight to the palace and tell them exactly where to find you, I swear to God.”

  
Louis deflated a little, pursing his lips. “Don’t, just- I’m sorry, alright? Just give me the papers and be done with it.”

  
Harry reached into his jacket and pulled out a large orange envelope. Louis reached out to take it, but the other man pulled back his hand at the last minute.

  
“Actually, there’s one more thing…”

  
Louis could feel his face turning red. “What more do you want? I let you scam my bloody mother for fifty thousand pounds, and we had a deal!”

  
Harry chuckled. “I don’t want any more money. This is simply an opportunity, a business venture, if you will.”

  
Louis frowned. “You’re a con man, Mr. Styles. I highly doubt I’d ever willingly go into business with someone like you.”

  
“No?” he quirked an eyebrow. “Tell me, where exactly do you plan to go? You can’t stay in the country; everyone here is practically required to know you. Even in Europe you’d still be recognized easily. So, that leaves America, right? Specifically the U.S., seeing as Canada still has a very ‘God save the Queen’ attitude. And, tell me, how exactly do you think you’ll get past airport security? Without them seeing you and bowing before your royal arse?”  
“Just get to the point.”

  
“If you want to get out of here, you’re going to need help. I need a cover to get out as well.”

  
“What are you suggesting?” Louis asked, suspicious.

  
“We should get married.” The other man said simply.

  
The prince almost spit out his tea. “What?”

  
“Well, not a real marriage, of course, but at least we pretend that we are.”

  
Louis coughed, hitting his fist against his chest to try and get the tea out of his lungs.“And… why are you asking me?”

  
Harry shrugged. “Convenience. Plus, I’ve gotta pick someone who’s at least in the same league as me, or people may ask questions.”

  
“Is this your way of telling me I’m fit?”

  
The other man rolled his eyes. “Are you going to take the offer or what?”

  
Louis crossed his arms. “Maybe. I have a few questions first. If we make it through the airports, what happens when we get to the U.S.?”

  
“That depends. You can either stay with me until you either decide you want to start conning or you find somewhere you want to settle down, or you can go off on your own as soon as we leave the airport.”

  
“If you think I’m going to start conning, you’re terribly wrong. I’m a prince.”

  
The other man frowned. “Not anymore, you’re not. If you want to survive in the real world, you have to stop thinking like that. Life isn’t going to hand itself to you on a silver platter anymore.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “Also… Just because we might appear married doesn’t mean that nobody will recognize us. People in this country have literally known me since I was born.”

  
“Oh, well you’ll have to change your appearance, of course. I will too. It has to be something significant. Like your hair. Maybe you could dye it, like, blue or something.” He shrugged.

  
Louis laughed incredulously. “Blue? Really?”

  
“Just an idea.” Harry mused into his teacup. “Would bleaching be a more preferable idea? I could see you as a platinum blonde.”

  
Louis thought about it a bit. Yeah, it probably wouldn’t be too bad-

  
He was actually considering this. He was going crazy. He must be. First running away from home and literally all he’s ever known; now he was teaming up with a fucking con man with hippie hair and a downright creepy resemblance to Tarzan.

“And what if I decide to go along with this?” Louis said. “What’s the plan then?”

  
“I’d pick you up tomorrow morning and I’d help get you into character.” Harry said boredly, inspecting the brick wall. “Then we’d get to the airport and get on the hellishly long flight to America, where you can then choose to either go with me or by yourself.

  
“Wait,” Louis said, putting up a hand. “’Get into character’?”

  
Harry cleared his throat. “Well… Yeah. You can’t just have a new name and a new hairstyle. You need to be able to answer questions. Like, ‘How long have you been married?’ ‘When did you meet?’ ‘Who gives and who receives?’”

  
Louis paled at the last question and he set his tea down. “T-they won’t really ask questions like that… right?”

  
The other man shrugged. “We’re two gay men in a relationship. Straight people act like we’re a whole new species. If we don’t get asked at least one sex question I’ll be surprised.”

  
Louis could feel his mouth dry. “And- and what exactly would be the answer? To the ‘who gives and who receives’ thing?”

  
Harry smirked. He really didn’t need to be that attractive, Louis thought. “Why? Are you taking an interest in me, Charming?”

  
“Please don’t call me that.” Louis grumbled. “And no. I’m only asking in case I need to know.”

  
“Well, in that case,” Harry said, flashing him a look. “I give. You receive.”

  
“Oh really?” Louis clenched his jaw. “What makes you think I don’t ‘give’ in this fictional relationship?”

  
“Well, I’m just built larger than you, built more like a top.” Harry said. “Plus, with an arse like yours, it would be a crime not to fuck that.”

  
“You’re revolting.”

  
“Says the man who wanted to know in the first place.”

  
Louis made a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose before downing the rest of his tea.

  
Fuck it all.

  
“Fine. I’ll pretend to be your stupid husband.”

  
Harry gave him a dimpled grin and handed him the envelope. Louis quickly tore it open to get a look at his ID.

  
“Charlie Edwards?”

  
“Yup.” The other man said, popping the ‘p’ and twisting the few escaping brown curls in his fingers. “Sorry if you don’t like it, but I’m not getting it changed. We already have airplane tickets under that name and a Mr. Marcel Edwards.”

  
“Wait,” Louis said, confused. “Why did you already buy tickets when you didn’t know if I would agree?”

  
Harry gave him a look that was probably supposed to convey intelligence, but instead made him look like a slightly concerned frog.

  
“Oh, trust me, I knew you would agree.” He said. “It’s not like you had much choice.”

  
“Is this how you always pick up boys?” Louis asked bitterly. “Help them run away from home and convince them to be your fake husband to smuggle them into America?”

  
“Only the cute ones.” Harry winked.

  
Honestly. Fuck Harry Styles.  
*  
After finishing his scone and talking some more with Harry about when he’d pick him up, Louis went back to his grubby motel room, a plastic bag with hair bleach, a shower cap and plastic gloves swinging around in his grip. He had to look the part, after all.

  
It wasn’t too hard to figure out how to mix the bleach and apply it, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t missed too many spots. The box suggested that for his hair color to lighten to the platinum blonde color he wanted, he’d have to leave the bleach on three to four hours. So, he put the shower cap over his head and plunked himself down on the bed in front of the TV.

  
The worst part was the itching. The heat seemed to build up under the cap, and it felt like fire ants were crawling all over his scalp. The only way he could stop himself from scratching at his hair was to sit on his hands and turn the telly to an episode of Great British Bakeoff and chew on his lower lip.

  
By the time three hours finally arrived, Louis felt like he might scream. Without even looking in the mirror, he stripped all his clothes off and jumped into the shower to wash his hair, careful not to get bleach in his eyes and joyfully scratching his head.

  
When he did look in the mirror, though… he was in shock.

  
His hair was still damp, sticking to his head and slightly slicked back with water. He took a strand of it and pulled it into his line of sight, trying to take in the light blonde color.

  
“I’m Draco fucking Malfoy.” He whispered incredulously to himself. He quickly darted over to his backpack on the bed and grabbed his reading glasses, attempting to style his hair into some kind of side-swoop thing.

  
He was a completely different person. Maybe not on the inside, but on the outside? He didn’t even recognize himself. He almost giggled with excitement.

  
He felt freer, somehow. Leaving the palace behind, his family, his life- it was scary as hell, but he actually had a chance to be himself, unashamed. A chance to fall in love- real, genuine, love. He might’ve cried, if he wasn’t still in shock that it was actually happening.

  
He had a chance to be free. And, con man or not, he was not going to pass up this opportunity. Even if it meant working with disgusting arseholes named Styles.  
*  
Harry arrived the next morning in a nondescript grey car, meant to be as bland and normal as possible. What wasn’t normal, though, was the man’s hair. He’d chopped off all his long locks overnight apparently, leaving the sides shaved and the top a bit longer, like those old WWII haircuts. He had on a soft-looking lavender jumper with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of skinny jeans clinging to his legs and the same pair of tan boots.

  
Harry looked him up and down from where leaned against the car, assessing Louis’ new hair, the glasses, and his fairly plain outfit of a white t-shirt, a black hoodie, black jeans, and his white Vans. He whistled appreciatively.

  
“Looking good, Charming.” Harry said, giving another glance to his hair. “Though, you do look a bit more like Aurora now, don’t you? Maybe I should call you Princess from now on. You’re probably into that, aren’t you? Do you want to start calling me daddy now-“

  
“If you ever call me Princess or ask me to call you daddy ever again,” Louis said, his voice a kind of murderous calm. “I will personally cut off your dick and feed it to a shark.”

  
Harry put his hands up in surrender, his face slightly worried. “Alright, alright, I won’t.”  
He gestured to the car. “Are you ready to go? We have to catch a flight in two hours and I still have to fill you in on our entire life together on the way to Heathrow. Oh and, one thing…”

  
The taller man took a slow step closer to him, his soft breath hitting Louis’ fringe. Harry took his left hand and slowly slid a ring on his ring finger. It was a simple silver band, with one tiny blue-green gem glinting back at him.

  
“What- what’s this?” Louis asked, inspecting the band carefully. He wasn’t quite sure how Harry had gotten his finger measurements, but it fit like a glove. And, he had to say, it looked good on him. The light metal stood out against his skin, naturally tanned from a few too many footie matches outdoors.

  
“It’s your wedding ring, duh.” Harry said, lifting up his own hand to wiggle his matching ring in his face. The other lad’s band was gold, the same kind of blue-green gem set in it. “Now, get in the car, husband.”

  
Louis sighed and went in the passenger’s side, throwing his bag in before him. Harry ducked his head down and folded his lanky legs into the car, turning the key in the ignition.

  
“Alright,” Harry started, turning onto the street. “We are Charlie and Marcel Edwards.”

  
“Yes, I know. I figured out that much.”

  
The other man gave an annoyed huff. “We’ve been married for only a few weeks, and we’re about to go on our honeymoon in San Francisco. We met three years ago through a mutual friend. We live in London, and we’re planning on adopting as soon as we can. You’re a video game designer and I’m in accounting.”

  
Louis whistled. “Wow. You’re… really detailed in all of this.”

  
“Well, it’s not like I have that many opportunities to plan my life with Prince Charming.”  
The prince snorted. “Right. I bet you’ve been doing that on a daily basis.”

  
Harry turned to give him a quick cocky grin. “That, among other things.”

  
Louis wrinkled his nose. “Gross. If I ever find out you’ve been getting off to me I swear I’ll-“

  
“I know, I know, cut off my dick and feed it to a shark.” Harry pouted, impossibly pink lips stuck out like a child. “You always ruin the fun, Mr. I’ve-got-a-stick-up-my-arse.”

  
“Hey,” Louis said incredulously. “I’m incredibly fun.”

  
“Oh, really? Who told you that, your butler?” He gave Louis a pointed look. “You do realize people feel like they have to be nice to you, for fear of being thrown out of the country.”

  
Louis crossed his arms and turned away from Harry’s green-eyed gaze. He was fun. Zayn thought he was fun. Well, no, he didn’t, but Zayn was a cunt so he didn’t count anyways. But he was plenty fun. And funny.

  
“You don’t think I’m fun? Fine.” Louis challenged. “Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?”

  
Harry groaned. ”Oh no. Not one of these.” Louis pouted. “Alright, I’ll humor you, at my own expense. No I haven’t heard about the restaurant on the moon.”

  
“The food was great, but it lacked atmosphere.”

  
Harry’s response was a tough grimace. “Mate, that was terrible. And that’s saying something, coming from me.”

  
“Well, fine.” Louis grumbled and staring out the window. “You do better then.”

  
The other man chuckled. “Oh no, you really don’t want me to do that. Once I start, there is no end.”

  
“It sounds like someone is chicken to me.” Louis said picking at his nails.

  
Harry shrugged his surrender. “Alright mate, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. What kinds of pictures do turtles take?”

  
The prince gave a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t know. Probably none, considering they don’t have thumbs.”

  
Harry smiled cheesily. “Shelfies. Get it? Like-“

  
“Yes, yeah, Harold, I get it. I was a royal, not living under a bloody rock.”

  
“Hey, don’t be so rude. You challenged my joke skills, you asked for it.”

  
“Don’t be rude?!” Louis said loudly. “You have been nothing but distasteful and vulgar to me since I met you.”

  
“I’m the vulgar one?” Harry snorted. “You were the one who asked which one of us would top.”

  
You know, it would be so easy to strangle him, Louis thought. I could just wait until he parks the car, and just when he’s not paying attention- BAM! I leap over and kill him.  
Louis hated Harry Styles. He was sure that would be written on his grave.

  
“Oh, and by the way,” Harry continued. “We’ll need to kiss and hug and all that coupley stuff.”

  
“What?”

  
“Oh come on,” he said, speaking like he was explaining something to a child. “We’re a newlywed couple; of course we’re supposed to be all over each other.” He paused, giving Louis a thoughtful look. “This isn’t your first kiss with a guy right? I mean, I know you were in the closet and all that, but-“

  
“How did you even guess that I was gay?” Louis interrupted, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

  
“Oh, there was no guessing involved.” Harry said simply. “You ran away because you’re being forced into a relationship with someone you don’t love, and you didn’t even flinch at the homosexual aspect of pretending to be married. So, you’re either gay, or some other sexuality, or you’re a lot more open-minded than I thought.”

  
Man, was it really that easy? Oh God, what if his mum had figured it out and kept setting him up with girls anyway? Or what if-

  
Louis was snapped out of his worrying stupor by Harry snapping his fingers in front of his face.

  
“Louis? Lou? Charming? Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, we’re at the airport.”

  
“Would you stop that?” Louis growled, batting Harry’s hand aside. “And don’t call me Lou. Only the people close to me get to call me that.”

  
“Aw, are you saying we aren’t close?” the other man said in mock disappointment.

  
“We are about as close as the Earth is to the end of the universe.”

  
“Well, fine then.” Harry sniffed, grabbing his leather satchel from the back seat and pocketing his car keys. “Let’s go, Charlie dearest, don’t want to miss our flight.”

  
Louis ground his teeth and grabbed his backpack, throwing it over his shoulder as he exited the car. Harry forcefully intertwined their elbows, knocking Louis in the ribs in the process.

  
“I hate you so much.” Louis said through a forced smile.

  
“Right back at you.”

  
And with that, the two made their way into Heathrow, trying to trip each other up the whole way to the sliding doors.

  
He had a chance to be free. And, con man or not, he was not going to pass up this opportunity. Even if it meant disgusting arseholes named Styles.  
*  
Checking in and going through security proved not to be too much of a hassle, the closest Louis got to being recognized was a security guard stamping his passport and commenting that he looked like the Crown Prince. He said he got that a lot and walked away. It was surreal.

  
There time came though when Harry gave him a sharp look through his grin, tugging him close to his side and cuddling them up like they were the same entity. The lady at the baggage check gave the two of them a knowing smile. Harry leaned down, after returning her grin, and planted a short kiss on Louis’ lips.

  
Now, he’d kissed boys before, yeah. A few one-night stands, just random people he picked up before Zayn and him started doing… whatever they were doing.

  
But this was different. For those he was probably either drunk, or high. They were sloppy and quick, both he and his partner far more interested in other activities.

  
No one had ever kissed him in broad daylight, just for the hell of it. He’d looked around after, and no one was looking at them like they were freaks, or like they were disgusted.

Nobody paid any mind to him at all.

  
And then there was the factor of Harry’s lips, a dream of candy floss and bubblegum, soft enough to be a wisp of cloud. He figured Lottie would have been obsessed with them, probably try and recreate the color.

  
But he wasn’t going to dwell on Harry’s lips, or his eyes, or his muscular back, or those thick thighs that could probably crush him. The guy was a complete bastard, attractive or no. And it wasn’t like he had to deal with him for long, right?

  
Harry seemed keen to talk to every security guard and flight correspondent he met. Before any time had passed at all, the other person would be putty in Harry’s hands. They could probably confess to homicide to him and trust him not to turn them in.

  
So this was the life of a con man, Louis thought. Make everyone you meet fall in love with a charade, then leave them none the wiser. All the lying made him feel a bit sick. Sure, he’d told his share of lies, but this… it was a bit daunting. But, hell, he’d been lying about who he was for this long, what were a few months longer?

  
The time spent waiting to board the plane was a grueling two hours, filled with flicking Harry’s freakishly small ear (like really, how were they so small? The rest of him was bloody massive) and reading years-old tabloids and magazines strewn about the slightly sticky coffee table. The other people around him consisted of a mother with two young children he hoped to God he wouldn’t have to sit next to, a few tired and overworked businessmen and women, and a young straight couple giggling and whispering in each other’s ears.

Disgusting.

  
“Ha- I mean, Marcel,” Louis corrected himself, poking Harry’s side. “Wake up. Wake up. I’m bored. Entertain me.”

  
“’m not a court jester, you know.” Harry grumbled, tucking his nose farther into the sleeve of his jumper where he rested his head and arms against the armrest. “I’m not here to entertain you. Just wait, we’ll be boarding in a bit.

  
Louis frowned. “But it’s taking forever!” he whined. An idea popped into his head, a sly smirk playing across his lips. “You’re not acting very much like my loving and devoted husband, you know.” He whispered. “If you don’t at least talk to me, we might blow our cover.”

  
Harry rolled his eyes, but sat up anyway and threw an arm around him. “Aw, babe, you know I love you more than anything in the world.” His voice was harsh, just a little too sweet to be serious. Like cough syrup.

  
The other man sucked at acting. Louis sincerely hoped the man never had any dreams of pursuing an acting career.

  
He crossed his arms and pouted. “If you really loved me, you’d give me something to do.” Yeah, he was kind of acting like a spoiled brat. Was Harry going to do anything about it? Probably not.

  
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you really want something to do, I’m sure we could find a nice secluded spot to… you know… entertain ourselves.”

  
Louis looked around hurriedly, checking to make sure none of the other people in the waiting lounge were looking at them disgustedly.

  
“Not what I meant. Please, tell me you have some music, an iPod or something.”

  
Harry sighed, giving him an annoyed look with a little bit of disdain before reaching down to rummage around in his satchel and pulling out an old paperback, the pages worn and dog-eared.

  
Louis inspected the title, giving Harry a curious look as he inspected the cover art. “’Eragon’?”

  
“What?” Harry huffed defensively. “I like fantasy. And dragons are cool.”

  
Unbelievable. Louis thought incredulously. This guy was such a piece of work. He had the appearance of some stupid indie singer, his profession made him sound like some kind of hard-ass criminal, he acted like a cunt, and to top it all off he was a giant geek. Perfect.

  
“So, ah… tell me, who’s your favorite character in this book?” Louis said, poorly concealing his shit-eating grin and light laughter.

  
“First off, stop laughing.” He frowned, looking a bit hurt. “And second: Nasuada.”

  
“Who’re they?”

  
Harry’s eyes lit up excitedly, turning towards him in his seat and moving his hands around as he spoke.

  
“Well, I don’t want to spoil it too much, but she’s the daughter of the leader of the resistance, Ajihad. She’s probably the most hardcore out of them all. In the later books, she has to go through some brutal shit.” Harry grinned widely, his two front teeth lightly scraping his lower lip.

  
“Just how many books are there?”

  
“Four, I think. I’ve got the next one in the series with me too, if you finish that one.”

  
Louis nodded and turned away, opening the book. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, right?  
*  
By the time Louis had just about finished the second chapter, the P.A. system in the lounge crackled to life and called the business class seats to board. Louis reluctantly began to hand the book back to Harry, who had just woken up and was sleepily grabbing his bag and getting the tickets out and ready.

  
The other man shook his head when the book was presented to him. “Keep it. It’s a long flight. Plus, you get tired of the movies there eventually.”

  
Louis furrowed his eyebrows, the slight kindness in Harry’s tone catching him off guard. “Thanks, I guess.”

  
Louis marked his place in the book with a tissue taken from the box on the sticky coffee table and slung his backpack over his shoulder, attempting to mirror Harry’s cheesy smile. He probably looked like one of those clowns with the smiles painted on their face.  
The taller man held his (fantastically huge) hand out for Louis to take. He accepted reluctantly, lacing their fingers together and letting Harry lead him to the woman with the strict bun of dark brown hair checking the tickets.

  
“Hello sirs,” she said in a false cheerfulness, obviously tired. She took their tickets and scanned them under the barcode reader at her desk. “Enjoy your flight.”

  
“Thank you,” Harry said, flashing her a blindingly friendly grin. “I hope you have a lovely day, miss.”

  
She looked up from her computer, slightly startled. “Oh… Thank you sir. You as well.”  
“You’re very welcome.”

  
Harry lead him into the terminal, tugging on his hand. Louis jogged slightly to keep up with his long stride, and to whisper to him.

  
“Must you do that to everyone?”

  
“Hm?” Harry asked, cocking his head to listen to him. “What do you mean?”

  
“I mean do you have to be so…” Louis grasped for the word. “Charming?

  
Harry snorted, attempting to keep it slightly quiet. “Why, are you afraid I’ll put you out of a job?”

  
“That’s not it.” Louis said, feeling a little angry at the other man’s arrogant tone. “Everyone you talk to with your stupid, dimple-y smile and odd sincerity falls in love with you. Or at least, they fall in love with the idea of you. A lie. It’s wrong.”

  
“Believe it or not,” Harry said, like he was having to complete some strenuous task. “I actually like being nice to these people. They’re not paid for me to make their day horrible. Might as well make them smile.”

  
“Huh.”

  
“What?”

  
“It’s just…”Louis said, slowing down slightly. “You’ve been nothing but rude to both my family and I. I just assumed that if you had the capabilities to be this nice to complete strangers that it would extend to me.”

  
“Well, that’s probably because all you and your family are paid to do is sit on your arse and look pretty. Which, don’t get me wrong, you all do a marvelous job at.”

  
“So it’s just rich people you hate, then?”

  
“Harry turned to him, his eyes steely. “Can you give me a reason not to?”

  
Louis was about to reply when he was ushered onto the plane by an air hostess with tired eyes and led back to his seat.

  
The seats in business class were smaller than he was used to, more cramped. Harry went in first and took the window seat, leaving Louis the middle next to an annoying-looking frat boy type, with a snapback and socks and sandals to complete the look. He shot Harry a burning glare before sitting down and stashing his backpack under his seat. The boy eyed him, and his skin crawled and the frankly gross peek he was having at his bum as he sat down. Without knowing quite what to do, he- in a moment of panic- reached over to grab Harry’s hand and press a kiss to the back of it. The green-eyed lad gave him a confused look at the contact, but quickly flashed his eyes to the other man and nodded.

  
Harry wrapped an arm around Louis after making sure both of their seat belts were fastened. He pulled the smaller boy close and kissed his newly-blonde head lightly. It was so gentle; it kind of made his head spin. Here Harry was, this fucking yeti who could probably smother him with his biceps and well-muscled shoulders, and he just kissed the top of his head like he was a china doll he was afraid to break. The juxtaposition sent made his brain fuzzy.

  
“Why don’t you read your book, sweetheart?” Harry said soothingly and fishing out a pair of headphones from his pocket. “I’m just going to watch a movie. Tap me if you need anything.” The other man's’ arm moved away to lace with the other behind his head. Louis nodded and attempted to get comfortable in his seat, opening his book as the pilot announced take-off.

  
The first few hours of the trip passed quietly, with the screen in front of Harry switching between different movies. Louis became engrossed in the book, almost forgetting the whole ‘breaking-the-law-and-running-away-from-his-whole-life’ situation. It was peaceful, despite the family of quadruplets who all had joined a barbershop quartet and were harmonizing their crying together. The guy to his left, who he named Arsehole, was completely entranced in his phone, probably playing some game.

  
Eventually though, Louis started to feel very cramped. He was too used to flying first class, on private jets and the like. At the moment, he felt quite a bit like a sardine packed in a tin flying death trap. He’d really never been all that fond of flying before but now- now it was worse.

  
“Ahem, ah…”Louis cleared his throat and tapped Harry on the shoulder, feeling his lungs start to struggle to pull in air. “Marcel? Babe?”

  
Harry pulled out one of his earbuds and turned to face him. “Huh? What d’ya need?”

  
“’m not feeling too great.” Louis said, biting his lip. “I just- I feel really crowded and I- I feel like I can’t breathe. Just, help. Please.”

  
Harry scoffed and lowered his voice. “Let me guess, the little prince isn’t used to not being in a cozy private jet will fancy champagne and full-course meals?”

  
Louis glared at him, hurt flaring behind his icy blue eyes. He still felt as if the air around him was constricting and suffocating him in a cruel form of irony. “Shut up. This isn’t funny. I seriously don’t feel well.”

  
The other man's’ face softened, looking slightly less punchable. “Sorry.” He said apologetically. “Here, turn to face me, just look at me.”

  
Louis turned so the upper half his body was facing Harry. Louis’ vision blurred around the edges to focus on Harry, and the bright light from the window behind him. Man, his eyes really were green, the prince thought. They looked like spring had been stuffed into a crystal ball and used as an eye. Louis thought they were fake. He must have been wearing contacts.

  
“Just look at me, yeah? Relax a bit.” Harry reached out to squeeze his shoulder, then traveling down to grip his hand. “Everything is going to be okay. Close your eyes now, and just lean back. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. You’re in a soft bed in a nice flat, and all you hear is a bit of rain outside. Just relax.”

  
Harry’s voice was low and soothing, and the minute he closed his eyes, Louis felt like he was being hypnotized. So, it wasn’t all that unexpected when he started to breathe evenly and fell asleep.

  
Louis woke to the sound of seatbelts clicking and an odd crick in his neck. His head was resting against something warm and soft, and smelled a bit like rain. He yawned, drowsily blinking his eyes against the fluorescent cabin lights and lifted his head slightly. It was when his head bumped into a sharp jaw that he realized what he had been leaning against.

  
“Morning, love.” Harry said. “Have you quite finished using me as a pillow?”

  
“Sorry, I- uh…”Louis said, slightly flustered. “You just- it’s your fault. Stupid deep voice and therapist calming stuff.”

  
Harry chuckled. “You’re welcome.” He began to gather his headphones up and retrieve his bag from under his seat.

  
Louis began to do the same, picking up his book off the floor and stuffing it into his backpack. “Where did you learn how to do that anyway?”

  
“I have a friend who’s pretty claustrophobic. I picked up a few things to help him out in case he ever had a panic attack.”

  
Louis raised an eyebrow and spoke in a whisper. “You have friends? What happened to the whole ‘I’m a con man, I’m a badass who works alone’ vibe”

  
The other man rolled his eyes. “I really give off that vibe to you?” Louis shrugged. “I must be a lot cooler in your head. But, I do have friends, yes. And, if I did even try to give off that vibe, you wouldn’t be here.”

  
Louis shouldered his backpack, adjusting the weight on his back. “I don’t know. I just thought that you had to lie to everyone, or that you never stuck around long enough.”

  
“You’re right.” He said matter-of-factly. “I don’t really stick around, which doesn’t let me have many friends. But I do have some.”

  
“Oh really? How many is ‘some’?”

  
“Two.”

  
Louis frowned. “Seems awfully lonely.”

  
Harry shrugged. “It’s a life. Plus, the more people I have in my life who know the truth about me, the greater the chance of someone turning me in. I may be lonely, but at least I’ve got an income and I’m safe.”

  
Louis opened his mouth to reply. “Come on, Charlie dearest.” Harry cut him off. “We need to get off the plane. Don’t want to miss our next flight.”

  
The next two stops were fairly boring- one in Chicago and another in Salt Lake City. He spent most of the time either sleeping or reading. On occasion he’d fake a smile and let Harry kiss his hand or his cheek to keep up appearances.

  
Their final stop was L.A., apparently. Almost as soon as he stepped off the plane, he could feel the heat suffocating him even in the airport. He found himself stripping his hoodie at the baggage check and fanning himself in an attempt to stop sweating.

  
Eventually, they came to the LAX entrance, and Harry asked the question that Louis himself had been trying to answer since Chicago.

  
The green-eyed man adjusted the satchel on his shoulder. “So, Charming. Where will you go now? You gonna stick around for a bit?” he might have been imagining it, but there was something almost… hopeful in his voice.

  
And Louis just didn’t know. What he did know was that he was afraid- no, terrified- of being alone. He’s never truly been alone in his life, and now, the prospect that he’d have to go find a job, a home, a life without anyone by his side? He couldn’t do it. He was a coward. Always had been.

  
“As much as my moral compass begs me not to,” Louis said exasperatedly, more annoyed at his own cowardice than anything else. “I’ll go with you. I’m not sure how good I’m going to be at… conning, or whatever, but I’m here. So.”

  
Harry cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. “I have to admit, you surprised me this time, Charming. And don’t worry; you won’t be doing much of the conning. You’re more… arm candy. A good cover up.”

  
“Wow. I am both relieved and insulted. Relieved I won’t have to actually scam people, and insulted because of you objectifying me.”

  
The other man shrugged. “C’mon. We need to get to our, ah, ‘honeymoon suite’, if you will.”

  
Huh. That didn’t sound so bad. A nice room and a good night's’ rest in a comfortable bed sounded pretty amazing. Maybe going into business with Harry wouldn’t be so bad after all.  
*  
Screw that. Harry Styles was a curly-headed cunt.

  
Apparently when Harry said ‘honeymoon suite’ he meant an old flat that hadn’t been lived in in months that smelled like moldy takeaway and instant noodles. It was a tiny little place with only one bedroom and one bathroom, and the kitchen, living room, and dining room all in one. The floors were old hardwood that had warped with water damage and groaned with every footstep. The one area that was covered was the space between the telly and the sofa, an old threadbare rug that had probably been cream coloured at one point but was now a sickly brown. A tiny window behind the dumpster-ready couch held a splendid view of a brick wall.

  
It was a dump.

  
Louis made his thoughts on the flat clear as soon as Harry finished jiggling the key in the door and opened it to let him in.

  
Harry frowned at him. “Not all of us get to live in a palace, you know.” He said. “Plus, I don’t get to stay here all that often, and I wasn’t going to splurge on a place I rarely visit.”

  
“Just because you don’t live here doesn’t mean it can’t meet basic health and safety codes.” Louis turned up his nose at a box that smelled like who-knows-how-old takeaway that smelled like something died in it. He almost missed the shitty motel room back in London. “Are you sure it’s even safe for us to be here? Am I at risk of catching some horrible disease from some spore on your moldy pizza?”

  
Harry casually picked up the box Louis had wrinkled his nose at and tossed into the overflowing trash bin by the kitchen counter. “Oh don’t be so dramatic. It’s perfectly fine. Just set your stuff down in the bedroom while I tidy up a bit. It’ll be nice enough to rival the palace, with a bit of elbow grease.”

  
Louis scoffed but made his way down the hallway and into the bedroom, nonetheless.  
He found this room to be significantly nicer. The walls were all painted white and the floor was the same wood, just with less water damage. A small open closet was off to the left, a few flowy patterned button-up shirts hung up and a few different pairs of boots lined along the bottom, including a pair of sparkly gold ones that he honestly didn’t believe Harry would actually ever wear. A queen bed was situated against the wall to the right, a light grey comforter and white pillow cases all rumpled and in disarray, as if someone had just woken up from it and forgotten to make it. One large window brought in light directly across from the doorway, with the same view of a brick wall as the one in the living room, yet this one seemed to make the room feel more open. Despite the chaotic state of the bed and a few pairs of joggers thrown haphazardly on the floor, it was by far the cleanest room in the house-he’d taken a quick look in the bathroom as he passed it in the hallway, and it wasn’t exactly promising.

  
He dropped his backpack and his hoodie just inside the alcove of the closet before running his fingers through his messy blonde fringe and sitting on the edge of the bed.  
Sitting there, Louis realized something. There were two of them. And only one bed.

  
Oh hell no.

  
“Hey, Harry?” Louis yelled, unwilling to actually stand up and walk to the other boy in the living room.

  
He popped his head in the door, one eyebrow raised quizzically. “What’s up, Charming?”

  
“It’s just… there’s only one bed.” He said nervously. “And two of us.”

  
Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t you worry your pretty little royal head. I’ll be sleeping on the couch. You won’t have to worry about me defiling your innocence as you sleep.” Louis opened his mouth to respond to that comment, to say that he wasn’t ‘innocent’, and he would chop off Harry’s balls if he even thought about defiling anything, but the other man disappeared from view before he could.

  
The prince dug the palm of his hands into his eyes. He really wanted some alcohol. He wanted to pass out and pretend that he hadn’t just agreed to live with the living personification of an arsehole.

  
He needed a nap as well, though he would have preferred to have the alcohol first. He stripped off his shirt anyway and threw it on the floor with the rest of his belongings, scooting up to grab one of the pillows and stuff it under his head.

  
He took one large sigh and let all the oxygen pour out of his lungs. He smelled like stuffy airplane and still slightly like bleach- a sharp contrast to the distinctly earthy smell of Harry on the sheets. He could do well with a shower. He just hoped Harry would have it cleaned for him by the time he woke up.

  
With one final yawn and the tension slightly releasing the muscles of his shoulders and back, he drifted off with the sounds of Harry putting plates in the sink and the traffic outside.  
*  
Louis woke presumably around midnight, considering the room was completely black and his internal body clock was telling him he shouldn’t be awake. He lifted his head up groggily from the pillow with a bit of drool coming from his mouth to check the clock on the bedside time. Low in behold, in harsh red numbers, the clock read back to him about half past twelve in the morning. His whole body was sweaty and too warm, his legs still constricted in jeans that felt too tight and like he might die if someone didn’t cut them off him. The sound of Harry snoring could be heard, probably having passed out after he had.

  
He sat up on the edge of the bed and swung his legs over his side, steadying himself for a moment from the dizziness of sitting up too quickly. Peeling off his jeans felt like removing a second skin, the tight material slightly catching on his bum and thighs. Once they were off he instantly felt better, throwing them in the general direction of the closet.

  
Louis stood up and poked his head into the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief after seeing that Harry had cleaned it up so all the soaps and lotions and the hair brushes were lined up on the counter. Clean towels were folded under the sink, which he found after snooping around looking for them and attempting to be quiet enough as to not wake the sleeping man in the living room.

  
He closed the door shut behind him and shucked off his briefs, stepping into the ceramic tub and pulling the floral shower curtain closed. He fiddled with the water temperature until a warm, steady stream was pounding on his chest and slipping down his legs. At least this place had decent water pressure.

  
Running a hand through his hair, Louis put his head under the water. His hair still felt dry from the bleach and had several knots in the longer sections from the full day of flying and then napping on it. He tugged at a few of the tangles, wincing as he tried to comb them out with his fingers.

  
Harry’s shampoo was some manly-man brand that smelled the same as those pine air fresheners for cars, far too strong and overpowering for his liking. The conditioner, on the other hand, was something sweet and fruity, passion fruit and mango. It was an odd combination, but he shrugged it off. It was fitting for Harry, in a way.

  
After he was finished washing his body with the generic bar soap, he dried off his hair quickly and wrapped the same towel around his hips, having neglected to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom with him.

  
As he opened the door, he gave a quick glance towards the darkened living room. Harry’s snoring had stopped, leaving the flat in an almost eerie quiet.

  
Louis tiptoed lightly into the bedroom but yelped, jumping back into the hallway when he ran into a large figure blocking his way. His arms reached up defensively to cover his bare chest, caught off guard and his heart going a mile a minute.

  
“Well, aren’t you fit?” Harry mused, cocking his hip out to lean against the doorway and crossing his arms. “You know, if you feel like you still need to experiment with boys a little, I am right here for you. I would be more than happy to offer my assistance.” Harry licked his lips, the look on his face nonchalant.

  
Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed by his flirting. “Please, I’ve done plenty experimenting before, with people far more attractive than you.” Okay, that wasn’t completely true. Harry was, objectively speaking, stunning. But Zayn counted, even if they had only ever exchanged sloppy handjob or quickie blowjobs, and Zayn was probably one of the most attractive people on the planet.

  
Harry raised an eyebrow and began striding towards him slowly. “Oh?” he lifted his tattooed arm, caging him on one side against the wall. “And what rich closeted schoolboy from your posh school got the honors, hm? Let me tell you, any little fuck you might’ve gotten from some snobby little prat is nothing.”

  
“Compared to what? You?” Louis scoffed. “Please. Your toxic masculinity is just you overcompensating for the fact you couldn’t even get an inch in.”

  
“Trust me,” Harry said, smirking like he had some great secret. “I don’t need to compensate for anything.”

  
“Except for your personality. Seriously, are you always such a sex-crazed pig, or did I just draw the short straw?”

  
Harry’s grin turned to a frown, his brow furrowed, mouth pressed into an annoyed sneer, and his eyes glaring daggers. “That’s really funny. Just thought you might be used to it. In my experience, most of the rich arseholes that you higher-ups surround yourself with are exactly that- sex crazed pigs. Sorry for just trying to operate on your obviously high level of sophistication, Your Highness.” Harry dropped his arm and began to turn back to the living room, but Louis grabbed his arm and forced him to face him again.

  
“What’s your problem, mate?” Louis yelled angrily. He was so done with Harry giving him shit. “You’ve done nothing but insult me and anyone who might be rich the entire time I’ve been with you, and I can’t seem to recall what I’ve done to offend you so much thus far. So, out with it, what made you hate me so much Styles?”

  
“What’s my problem?” Harry said incredulously, his voice dangerous. “My problem is that all you rich fucks care about are the upper one percent and that’s it. None of you could care less about the people who actually have to have a job, sometimes working themselves to the bone just to make sure their families can eat. You treat the people working for you either like dirt under your fancy shoes or like little fuck toys you can play around with as you please. So you’ll have to excuse me if that pisses me the hell off.”

  
Louis was fuming. This guy hadn’t known him more than three days, and he was assuming he knew him, how he operated and how he chose to treat people. The fact that Harry could even think he was so low of a person to treat others like that sent his teeth grinding. “I’ve never treated someone like that in my life. You can’t hate me for something I’ve never done, and when you don’t even know me!”

  
Harry snorted, his upper lip stuck in a little snarl. “Really? You’re going to go with the ‘not all rich people’ argument? Please, as long as you stay quiet about it and continue to treat the arseholes like they’re fucking kings you’re just as bad.”

  
“Then why take me along?” Louis said, throwing an arm up. “If you think I’m so bad, why even let me stay to work with you?"

  
Harry crossed his arms and looked down the hallway, avoiding Louis’ icy blue stare. He pursed his lips. “You were available. Plus, like I said before, you’re attractive. I needed a believable husband.”

  
Louis let go of the other man’s arm and huffed out a breath. “Well then. If I’m supposed to be working with you and pretending to be your husband, maybe you should try not to hate me.”

  
“Only if you promise not to act like a spoiled brat.”

  
“I don’t-“Louis complained. Harry gave him a sharp look. He sighed. “Fine.”

  
They shook on it, neither of them really believing the other on their word.

  
“Best get to bed, Charming.” Harry said, strolling back to the living room. “Work starts tomorrow.”

  
Louis stared after him until he disappeared, then went into the bedroom to pull on a pair of joggers from his backpack.

  
He really hoped Harry would actually uphold that deal. He was alone now, almost, and he wanted to like Harry. Wanted Harry to like him. Not quite friends, but at least civil. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to stay sane if the one person he was depending on to show him around this new freedom couldn’t stand in the same room as him without being disgusting. Sure, he had to work on being nicer to Harry as well, which would be difficult if the lad continued to display his dislike of Louis’ vocally. But his hope was that they could be civil.

  
Louis laid down again, looking up at the ceiling.

  
What had happened to Harry Styles to make him so angry?  
*  
Louis woke the next morning to his nose buried deep in his pillow in an unfamiliar bed and the smell of coffee and eggs filling wafting around the bedroom. The sound of Harry quietly could just be heard over the popping of whatever was in the pan, an upbeat morning song for too cheery for Louis’ liking.

  
He kicked his feet over the edge of the bed reluctantly, wrinkling his nose at the light shining in through the window. His hair probably stuck out in a million directions like a hedgehog’s quills, his eyes and brain both still a little bit bleary with sleep. He looked around, dazed and eyes unfocused, to the unfamiliar room around him. He stood and stumbled his way down the hallway, slightly knocking his hip on the doorway on the way out.

  
Harry was in front of the stovetop oven with a ratty old Rolling Stones t-shirt on and boxers with the Superman logo all over them, which Louis found hilarious. He was tending to some scrambled eggs with one hand on a fork he was using to break apart the yolk and the other held a mug of coffee. He was still humming along, slightly moving his hips and occasionally mumbling out a lyric or two.

  
He gave a quick glance over his shoulder at him after Louis cleared his throat, noticing him for the first time. “Morning, Charming.” He took another sip from his mug and gave him a sarcastic smile. “Aw, you’re actually kind of cute in the morning.”

  
“Thank you, for the opinion I did not ask for.” Louis said tiredly. It was too early to put up with Harry’s bullshit. He sat down at the dining table, laying his head in his arms. “Now, can I have some eggs? I’m starved.”

  
“Aaaand, we’re back to entitled piece of shit.”

  
Louis rolled his eyes and lifted his head. “I thought we agreed you’d stop being an arsehole?”

  
Harry scraped his cooked eggs onto a plate and sat down at the table across from Louis, salting and peppering the dish with the shakers on the table. The prince’s mouth watered and stomach grumbled enviously as he shoveled the first bite into his mouth. Harry swallowed. “Ah, but that’s only valid when you’re not being a brat which-“Harry stabbed another piece of egg with his fork. “You just were.”

  
“I was not!” Louis complained, knowing full well he was lying and crossing his arms over his bare chest. “All I did was ask for some breakfast, what’s wrong with that? It’s been forever since I last had real food.”

  
“The issue,” Harry said, around a mouthful of egg. “Is that you need to learn how to make your meals for yourself. You need to be able to act like an adult in the real world- do laundry, make food, pay government taxes-“

  
Louis raised a questioning eyebrow. “You pay taxes? To the government?”

  
“Well, no.” Harry said, waving his fork around as he spoke. “But that’s not the point. I do pay for this place, electricity, water, rent- the works. Do you even know how to get a bank account?”

  
He stayed quiet. He’d always stayed in the palace; he hadn’t ever had any need for most of those skills.

  
“Hmph.” Harry gloated. “That’s what I thought.”

  
Louis pouted his lips out. “Does this mean you won’t make me breakfast?” Yes, he was trying to charm the other man into making him food. Yes it fell under being a brat. No, he didn’t think it would work. He was really tired, okay? More had happened in the past three days than most of his life.

  
“Nope.” The other man said with a grin, dumping his now empty plate and mug into the sink. “You’ll have to figure it out for yourself. There are eggs in the refrigerator and some bacon in the freezer. Good luck.”

  
With that, Harry gave him a wink and another smile before sitting down at his makeshift bed on the couch, turning on the telly to some American TV show- an older guy rooting around in a cramped old attic for antiques, apparently.

  
Louis gave a little ‘hmph’ and stood, opening the fridge to grab the carton of eggs, and then moving to the top freezer to grab the bacon. Thankfully, Harry had another frying pan which he put on the burner and laid a few bacon strips out on it. The pan that Harry had used he scrubbed off in the sink and put back on the other burner to crack a couple eggs into. When the bacon was done and cool enough to work with, he grabbed a knife and chopped the strips into smaller pieces which he threw into the other pan with the eggs that were slowly becoming an omelet. The end result was a fluffy omelet with the bits of bacon sprinkled around inside like confetti. He was pleased with how it turned out, and if he had purposefully made something extra nice just to shove it in Harry’s face, then well, that was just a bonus.

  
The smell brought Harry out of his seat and peering over his shoulder to stare at Louis’ creation as he flipped it out of the pan and onto a plate. The proximity sent the hairs on the back of Louis’ neck prickling, silently hoping that Harry would learn the meaning of ‘personal space’.

  
“Oh.” Harry said, clearly surprised. “I thought…”

  
Louis put one hand on his hip while the other held the plate, turning to face him. “What? That I couldn’t make food for myself? I’m not a toddler, you know.”

  
Harry shrugged. “I just thought, with all your cooks and servants and stuff, you wouldn’t have ever learned.”

  
“I’m just lazy, not useless.” Louis sat down at the table and took a bite of his food, silently gloating.

  
“Well, why did you learn?” Harry asked, clearly actually curios for the answer and sitting down next to him.

  
“What, like a prince can’t learn to cook for himself? I can’t exactly ask the staff to make weed brownies for me, can I?” Louis sighed and turned to face the other lad. “If you must know, when my little sister Lottie was younger, she didn’t sleep very well and she would get hungry really late at night. So me, being the amazing older brother I am, would go down to the kitchens to make her snacks and stuff. All the cooks were gone so I just did it myself. There.”

  
Harry looked… genuinely surprised. Like he didn’t believe the prince would learn how to cook for his sister. “Wow that- that was really kind of you, Louis. I didn’t realize you were so close with your younger siblings, just because there are so many and you’re so much older. I didn’t think you’d spend the time.”

  
Louis took another bite and gave him an incredulous look. “Not spend time with my sisters?” he scoffed. “Listen, growing up in the palace, it can be kinda lonely. I mean, our mum was always incredibly busy, and outside kids weren’t really allowed in the palace- security issues, and all that. So, I played with my siblings, as they came along. Really the only friend I had was one of the other kids who went to the same private school as I did. Me and him, we’re basically family. There are not a whole lot of people in my life. That’s why I made the time for them.”

  
“Your friend, that’s that Malik guy you always get papped with, right? The author? Louis nodded. “Are you and him dating?”

  
Louis almost choked on his omelet. “What? Why on Earth would you ask that?”

  
“You do realize that he’s clearly one of the most attractive people on this planet, right?” Harry said in a patronizing tone that Louis did not appreciate. “Plus there are some rumors about you two, seeing as you go everywhere together. It’s just a logical question to ask.”

  
Louis shook his head, pursing his lips. “If you really care that much, no, I’m not dating him. I said he was like a brother, remember? I mean, sure we considered it but… yeah no, there’s nothing more than physical attraction. Not in love. No romantic feelings. Why? You making sure I’m single?”

  
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh, are you offering?” He looked around frantically, dramatizing his movements. “I’m sure I’ve got some condoms and lube somewhere-“

  
Harry Styles was just one of those people with one of those faces. One of those very, very punchable faces. Instead of going for the face though, he went for the shoulder. “Hey! You said you wouldn’t be gross. That absolutely classifies.”

  
Harry smiled apologetically and put his hands up in surrender. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He pointed to Louis’ plate. “Can I have the last bite of your omelet?”

  
Louis put a smug grin on his face as he speared the piece with his fork and shoved it in his mouth. “Nope.” Harry’s face was priceless, like someone had just told him his puppy died. He stood and put his plate in the sink, then had to stand up on his tiptoes just to reach a mug from the cupboard. This earned him a chuckle from Harry, which he reminded himself to kick him for later. He looked through a few of the containers on the counter and a few of the drawers, but came up empty for what he was looking for. He turned back to Harry. “Hey, where is your tea? I can’t find any.”

  
“That’s because I don’t have any.” He shrugged. “’ve got coffee though.”

  
Louis wrinkled his nose up at the prospect that coffee could ever replace tea. “Wait. Hold up. You’re British and you have absolutely no tea in your flat?” Harry nodded. “This is an offense to your country. To me. How can you survive on bitter, tasteless, worthless coffee alone?”

  
The taller man rolled his eyes and rose, plopping himself back onto the couch. “Trust me, I manage.”

  
Louis sighed and put the mug back, shaking his head and sitting down next to him. He ran a hand over his face. “All right, Styles, when’s our next job?” Louis’ imagination started going to a few too many crime procedural drama episodes. “Are we going to break into some high-end music mogul’s closely-knit friend group and get them to release the rights to a bunch of songs to us? Or cheat out a wealthy drug dealer and run away from their thugs in a super intense car chase? Or maybe-“

  
“Whoa, slow down, Charming.” Harry said. “We will be doing nothing of the sort. I only go after targets who I know won’t try to kill me after, which rules out the car chase. In fact, the first job you’re working on isn’t until next month, about the twenty-fifth.”

  
Louis groaned. “Really? So far away? Why, do you want me to die of boredom?:

  
“Well,” Harry said. “Have you heard of Payne Industries?”

  
He nodded. “Of course. That’s that huge luxury hotel chain, right?”

  
Harry hummed in acknowledgment. “Yeah. Well, the guy who owns it, Mr. Liam Payne, is throwing a party for the opening of his new hotel in L.A. We are going to go to this party as Arin and Zach Markson, the proudly out and married owners of ImagineIt, a company we started from the ground up. My plan is to get Mr. Payne drunk enough to make a donation to our company in exchange for some fake information about his competitors. After he makes the cheque out to our company, we escape and get the hell out of dodge.”

  
Louis gave him a disbelieving look. “And… you’re absolutely sure that that’s going to work?”

  
“Of course.” Harry said, throwing him a grin. “I’m about as sure as I am with any job like this. I project that it’s going to go as well as my job with the Queen.”

  
Cocky, this one. “Uh,” Louis said. “I hope you realize that the only reason you got away with that was because I decided not to turn you into the police and you smuggled me out of the country, right?”

  
“Well, I got the money. That’s what really counts.”

  
“Yeah, yeah.” Louis grumbled. “’m still not thrilled about that.”

  
Harry just shrugged, turning his attention back to the show playing.

  
They sat quietly, a hobby Louis wasn’t all that fond of. Usually he’d always be talking with someone, be it Zayn or one of his sisters or his mum. Sure, he liked silence just fine, but the TV show host’s voice and the sound of traffic outside was creating a kind of static between his ears that made his skin crawl.

  
“So,” Louis said, desperate to talk about something. “What do we do until the party? Sit around and watch telly and do fuck all?”

  
“No.” Harry said with a sly smile that Louis was beginning to learn to be afraid of. “I’m going to teach you how to be a real human adult.”

  
Like he wasn’t human before? Louis raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re going to tutor me on adult life?” The guy was like a giant twelve-year-old, he found it hard to believe he could do any kind of ‘tutoring’.

  
“Yup.” Harry gave him a dimpled grin, somehow looking like he was still a teenager while trying to disagree with him. “I am ever so humbly offering my expertise, having been an adult for some time now. It can’t hurt to let me teach you a few things. Oh, and don’t let me forget, we need to get you some fancy clothes for the party. I’m assuming you left all your posh Prince Charming outfits at the palace, right?” Louis nodded. “Alright. ‘ve just gotta remember to get an appointment set up with Lou…”

“Wait, I have a question,” Louis said, raising his hand as if he were still in primary school. “How old are you?”

  
Harry gasped and put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age?” He sniffed. “But, if you really need to know, I’m twenty-two years of age.”

  
Louis pulled his feet up under him, curling his arms around his knees and pointing at the man accusingly. “Ha! You’re young! You’re just a baby! I’m a whole two years older than you.” Louis laughed incredulously. “I thought you were at least my age, or older, if I’m being completely honest. Don’t get me wrong, you have the mental maturity of a preteen. I just thought ‘cause you’re roughly the size of fucking Bigfoot that you’d be older.”

  
Harry sniggered, throwing one of the few dingy pillows at him. “Hey, I’m not the size of Bigfoot. You’re just small. Incredibly small. How are you even an adult human?” Louis threw the pillow back, narrowing his eyes threateningly. “But according to my friends, the maturity thing is definitely right.”

  
“Well, be sure to tell all two of your friends that I’m glad they agree with me.”

  
“Hey!” Harry exclaimed, slightly hurt. “At least I’m not the guy with one best friend and everyone else he talks to are his siblings or his mum.”

  
Ok that wasn’t a hundred percent true. But it still was a low blow. “You’re not… exactly right. I was friends with a lot of the staff as well. And I could’ve been fucking models and handsome businessmen if I wanted. I don’t though, because more often than not they’re really fake and only in it for the money or the title.

  
“And the fact that you were in the closet.”

  
Louis pressed his lips into a thin line. “Yes, and the fact that I was in the closet.”

  
Harry turned towards him and took a breath. This should be good. “I don’t understand that. You’re one of the most powerful people in the world, do you understand the impact it would make if you came out? So many more young people would feel valid and proud if you did. You could inspire an entire generation of people as out and proud adults, and people who accept them. Why keep it a secret?”

  
“That’s exactly why.” Louis groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t want to inspire anyone. Don’t get me wrong, that would be great and all, but if I’m too much of a coward to even come out to me own mum, then what kind of example does that give to them? Plus, my mum is dead set on me having my own children, on giving her wedding ring to my bride, to having a daughter-in-law. If you could see her face when she’s thinking about grandkids or my wedding… I couldn’t take that from her, I can’t.”

Harry’s face softened. “What about your own happiness?”

  
Louis shrugged, picking at a thread on the couch. “That’s why I ran away, right? This is my chance to be happy. Fall in love, or something.”

  
Harry snorted. “If you’re looking for happiness mate, you’ve come to the wrong place. The real world isn’t sunshine and fucking rainbows.”

  
“I know that. Still, I have more of a chance out here than in any palace with a million people’s expectations breathing down my neck.” Harry shrugged. “Before I go on my great quest for happiness though, I’m going to put a shirt on. And you should get some pants on.” Louis stood and headed towards the bedroom, stretching out his arms above his head.

  
“Can’t make me!” Harry yelled after him. “My flat, my rules.”

 

Louis rolled his eyes at the other man's’ childish tone and picked up his shirt off the floor from the day before, giving a quick whiff to see if it was passably clean before tugging it over his head.

  
He walked back out to the living room to find that Harry had done the exact opposite of what he had asked. Louis didn’t know if he’d be sane enough to survive a month with this idiot.

  
“Oh- God, Harold.” Louis sighed and turned his face away. “Put some fucking boxers on you absolute dimwit.”

  
Harry stood and put on a defiant face, crossing his arms. “No. It’s my home, and I don’t like wearing clothes. Get used to the nudity.”

  
“No. I will not ‘get used to the nudity’. “Put some pants on or I swear I will-“Harry began turning side to side slightly, a slapping sound coming from his dick hitting his upper thighs. “Wha- What are you doing?” Slap, slap, slap, slap. “Stop that. Stop it.”

  
“No.”

  
“Put some fucking- some fucking pants on or I swear to God.” More slapping and a stupid grin from Harry. Louis threw a hand over his eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “I hate you. I will tear your dick off. Stop that.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out an angry breath and setting his jaw. “Honestly? Are you twelve?”

  
“I am only enjoying myself in my own home.” Harry said simply. “Please. Sit down. Relax. Don’t let me disturb you.”

  
Louis gaped, practically feeling the steam coming out of his ears. The nerve of this arsehole. “Don’t let you disturb- You’re literally helicoptering your dick in my face, how am I supposed to relax? “ Louis ground his teeth. “I can’t just ignore that… thing. It’s like a baby’s fucking arm, lord.”

  
Harry cocked an eyebrow and put his hands on his hips, continuing to make his dick look like a goddamn propeller. “Are you calling my dick big? Bit of a size kink, Charming?”

  
Louis was going to strangle him. He was. He was going to strangle him, then he was going to force his cold, dead corpse into a pair of trousers, and then he was going to throw his body in a lake. After he found Harry’s bank account information. “No, that’s not it. I am merely observing the fact that you are a fucking yeti- everything about you is freakishly huge, except for your ears. Seriously, they’re tiny. Are they just underdeveloped or something? Do you have hearing issues?”

  
Harry frowned, finally, blessedly stopping the movements of his hips to cup his hands over his ears. “Don’t make fun of my ears. They’re just small, don’t be mean to them! And I’m not large. You’re just really, really tiny. Like a delicate little sparrow. How tall are you, 5’6?”

  
Louis narrowed his eyes. “I’m 5’8, you prick.”

  
Harry gave him one of those ‘yeah, okay’ faces that made Louis wanted to punch him significantly more.

  
“I’m 5’8, I swear! And I’m not delicate. I can intimidate grown men.”

  
“What do you do?” Harry snorted. “Meow at them? You’re about as threatening as a kitten.”

  
The prince rolled his eyes and threw his arms up in surrender. “That’s it. I’m done. I give up.” He turned around and walked back to the bedroom. “I’m not awake enough for this. I’m going back to sleep. Don’t wake me up under any circumstances.”

  
“What if there’s a fire? Or a flood? Or aliens? Or-“ Harry yelled after him. The lad was chuckling smugly, as if Louis only barely suppressing his urge to murder him was funny.

  
“I don’t care. Let me burn.”

  
Louis sighed and flopped ever-so-gracefully facedown on the bed, not even bothering to covering himself up.

  
It was going to be a long month.


	2. 2

Louis was very, very drunk. That, he was a hundred percent sure of. The room was spinning a bit, and his stomach felt like it was competing in gymnastics. He wasn’t even going to bother trying to stand. He was sitting in the flat on the couch, he and Harry passing a half-empty bottle of tequila between them. The other man was giggling like a child for some reason, he didn’t know, but he looked like a complete idiot. He was about to tell him exactly that, but his mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate.    
  


Louis had been staying with Harry for almost a full month, and in that time he learned that Harry was terrible at holding his liquor. This resulted in Friday night drinking and binge watching ‘Say Yes to the Dress’, the only show they could ever agree on watching (They still argued on dress style quite a bit, with Harry favoring the mermaid style and Louis- being a traditionalist- favored princess style).   
  


Louis spent a lot less time preparing for the Payne job and learning how to be an adult from Harry and a hell of a lot more time bored out of his mind and threatening to chop certain parts of Harry’s southern attachments off. Though, Harry did make him go downstairs to meet with their landlady to give her the rent, which was sort of what he had promised to teach him. She was a lovely lady, anyway, and Louis enjoyed meeting with her and talking about her grandchildren.    
  


“Lou, Lou, Lewie, lewis.” Harry hiccupped. “Wanna know what we should do?”   
  


Louis rolled his head to lean on his shoulder, looking at him lazily. His lips were really pink. Were they always that pink? Maybe he wore lipstick. “Hmmm, what?” Louis slurred, his brain moving slowly.   
  


“We- We should get tattoos.” Harry nodded, very seriously like this made perfect sense. ”Together. They can be buddy tattoos. It’ll be fuuuun, I promise.” He gave Louis this huge, dimpled grin that made him want to poke his finger into the depressions in his cheeks.   
  


“I already have a tattoo, see?” he attempted to bring his ankle up to their eye level, almost kicking Harry in the face. He showed off his one tattoo, the little triangle he’d gotten in a very similar situation- lots of tequila and a pretty boy. ”M’friend Zayn always called it me gay ankle, cause it was like a symbol or summat. Plus you have tattoos too, you don’t need any more.” Louis complained. “You’ve got the plants and the butter-moth thing on your tummy, and all the ones on your arms and the birds with the eyebrows.”   
  


Harry pouted his bottom lip out, brow furrowed. Louis thought he looked like a seven-year-old. Or a frog. Definitely more like a frog. “But these will be our buddy tattoos. We can be all matchie-matchie. Pretty please?” The other man leaned towards him, making his eyes as big as they could get and fluttering his eyelashes.   
  


At this point, it didn’t sound like such a bad idea to him. Sure, tattoos hurt, but Louis wanted to go out. He wanted to leave the flat for the first time in what seemed like a century. Plus, maybe getting matching tattoos would make Harry like him. He was tired of fighting. Not that he’d ever admit that. He’d argue until he’s blue in the face if it meant not giving in to Harry.   
  


Of course, this was all perfectly logical to his intoxicated brain. So, without much more thought to it, Louis shrugged and attempted to stand, smoothing down the wrinkled Misfits vest he’d stolen from Zayn forever ago and stumbling out the door after Harry- who seemed to be marginally more sober.   
  


They managed to hunt down a cab and have it deliver them to a tattoo parlor, one Louis assumed Harry was familiar with as he’d been able to recite the address like it was his own with only slight slurring.   
  


The drive went by in a blur of neon colors and too-loud pop music playing on the radio. The buzz in his head was dangerously close to being a headache instead of the pleasant fuzziness. He was probably going to regret this tomorrow morning. He didn’t care. He just wanted to do something. He wanted to be stupid.   
  


Harry was doubled over, clutching his stomach and laughing at something the driver had said. Louis didn’t hear it- he was focused on the one little curl of Harry’s hair that had grown out faster than the rest of it and was currently bobbing up and down in front of his eye. He felt the need to tuck it behind the other guy’s ear or something, but he had a feeling Harry would probably take it as an advance on him. Which. No. Absolutely not. He was so not attracted to the biceps and the lips and the jaw and the tattoos and the eyes and the dimples and the-   
  


They stumbled out of the cab to a dark street, only a few shops’ ‘open’ signs still flashing. The one Harry led him into had different designs posted up in the front window, a couple of low lights illuminating them from behind and casting shadows on the sidewalk.     
  


The inside of the shop wasn’t what he expected from a tattoo parlor in L.A. to look like. The sitting area looked fairly cozy, with old cracked leather settees lining old brick walls. A receptionist desk to their right was empty, only a few strewn about sticky notes and a pen without a lid the evidence that someone was there. A hall reached back and showed several doors, each probably to individual rooms. The slight whirring and buzzing of a tattoo gun could be heard quietly behind one of the doors, the sound slightly hidden by the softly playing lobby music.   
  


Harry frowned at the empty desk and impatiently rang the little bell sitting on the counter. He began to rock back and forth on his feet, which was probably not a good idea as Louis was attempting to lean against him for support.

  
“Just a minute!” An accented voice called out from behind one of the doors. “I’ll be right there!”   
  


The buzzing ceased and the door closest to them opened, the first to emerge a guy with a head of wispy red hair and a slowly growing beard creeping across his face. The lad behind him was taller than all of them, Harry included, with dyed blonde hair that stuck up at all angles and a decent five o’clock shadow growing. The muscle tank the blonde was wearing revealed a plaster that was wrapped around his bicep.   
  


Upon seeing the two of them, the ginger one’s face lit up, a wide grin stretching his face and crinkling his eyes. Louis had to do a quick mental check to make sure he didn’t know him; the smile just seemed so friendly. “Harry, mate, how’s it going?” he took the boy into a quick bro-hug.  “It’s been way too long.”   
  


Harry gave the lad a happy, dimpled grin. “It’s been good, Ed. I see you’ve finally grown out that beard.”   
  


“I see you still can’t grow facial hair.” Ed frowned, then crossing his arms. “Dude, you reek like booze. Are you drunk?”   
  


Harry shrugged noncommittally, staring down at one tan boot digging into the carpet. “Maybe…”   
  


The blonde guy cleared his throat a bit, decidedly not looking at any of them and training his focus to one of the designs hung up on the window.   
  


Ed snapped his head toward him at the sound, an apologetic smile on his lips. “Oh, right, sorry Mikey. You remember the care stuff we talked about?” he nodded. “Alright. See you later man.”   
  


“See you.” He said, pushing lightly past Louis to get to the door, his accent definitely Aussie. “And, uh… nice to meet you two, I guess.”   
  


As he disappeared, Ed scratched at his beard and gave Harry a long-suffering sigh. “What are you here for, Haz? Not that I don’t love seeing you.”   
  


Harry moved away from Louis (who stumbled a bit and managed to catch himself, like the graceful prince he was) and wrapped an arm around the tattoo artist’s shoulder and hugged him close to his side. “Aw, Ed, can’t a guy just visit his mate for the hell of it?”   
  


“Not when you’re this pissed.”   
  


Harry sighed. “We want tattoos.”   
  


“We?” Ed looked over at Louis, slightly surprised. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. What’s your name?”   
  


Louis had been picking lint off his shirt, snapping his head up dazedly when he was addressed. “Huh?” His foggy brain struggled to catch up. “Oh, I’m…uh…”   
  


“Charlie.” Harry interjected, probably attempting to remind him and speaking far too loudly in the otherwise quiet shop. “His name is Charlie. He’s just come to the States and he’s staying with me for a bit.”   
  


He was impressed. Louis wanted to give Harry a thumbs up for coming up with that. Maybe he was just acting drunk. Had he actually seen Harry drink anything? Had he consumed half the tequila by himself? Either way, he looked pretty sober to Louis, and it made him slightly mad.   
  


“So you guys got wasted and… wanted to get tattoos?”   
  


Harry nodded like this made complete sense, letting go of Ed’s shoulders to meander around and look at the tattoo designs.   
  


“Yeah, uh, no.” Ed said, with a hint of annoyance in his tone. “There’s no way I’m letting either of you get a tattoo like this. You’re going home, and if you still want the ink, call me when you’re sober. I’m getting you a cab.”   
  


Harry grabbed the other man’s arm and put on his best pleading face, complete with the eyelash-batting and lip-pouting. “Pretty please? I promise to help you get into that one club you’re always complaining about. Please?”

 

“A good friend would say no,” Ed contemplated. “But I’ve been waiting to get into that place for a month now and I think it’d be funny to watch you freak out about it tomorrow.”   
  


Harry clapped his hands together and gave Ed an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

 

Louis was off to the side, feeling very awkward standing alone while Harry practically lept into Ed’s arms. He wasn’t really used to being ignored. It was a weird feeling.

 

“Hey, Charlie,” Harry said, finally turning back to him. “Why don’t you look over by the window for something, I’m gonna have Ed show me his sketchbook.

 

Louis nodded and turned away from the green-eyed boy, who was letting himself be led back into the hallway and into an office he had thought was a supply closet.

 

Most of the designs taped up on the wall couldn’t really be split into two tattoos. He wasn’t looking all that hard though anyway. His eyes were unfocused and he was more stumbling than walking around, hoping that he found a design he liked and that he wouldn’t fall on his face.

 

He wandered back and forth in front of the wall for a few minutes before his eyes rested on a smaller drawing stuck right in the middle of all the others, on the same page as a large compass and a lighthouse. It was simple, compared to some of the other ones- just an anchor with a rope in the infinity symbol tied through the loop. It looked pretty cool, in his opinion , yet it was odd that it even caught his eye as it wasn’t even in colour or all that intricate.

 

He tore the picture down from the window and made his way back to the open door of the office. Harry and Ed were both hunched over a little desk across the room flipping through the pages of a worn sketchbook, with Harry giggling at whatever was on the page. Louis cleared his throat as he approached them, waving the paper around like a flag. 

 

“I want this one.” The prince said, presenting the paper to the tattoo artist and pointing to the anchor and rope, swaying a little bit on his feet.

 

Harry frowned. “But what about our buddy tattoos? Are we both gonna get the same thing?”

 

“Noooo.”Louis groaned, moving his arms around as he spoke. “I want this one. You can get something else.”

 

“That one is cool. I want it.”

 

Ed lifted up a hand, waiting to be called on like he was still in grade school. The two other men turned their heads to him, Harry nodding his head for him to speak. “I can split that up, you know. It shouldn’t be too hard.” Louis tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding the ginger-haired man. “One of you can get the rope and the other can have the anchor. I mean, it’s really more for like, couples and stuff but if you really want to-”

 

“I call dibs on the rope!” Louis interjected, probably too loud. 

 

Harry pouted, crossing his arms. Louis kind of wanted to bite his lower lip. Wait, what? “What if I wanted the rope?”

 

Previous drunk thought forgotten, the prince crossed his arms defiantly. “Too bad. I called dibs. You can have the anchor, it’s more you anyway.”

 

He sniffed. “Fine. But don’t complain to me when you wish you would have gotten the anchor later.” 

*

After Ed had gotten Louis properly situated in a chair and had all his equipment ready, Harry disappeared to God knows where. He was honestly relieved that the other man wouldn’t be watching him get the tattoo. Louis had a thing about not wanting people to see him in pain. Strong prince image, and all that.

 

The tattoo didn’t hurt too bad, only getting worse when the needle went over the bone and the soft veiny part of his wrist. 

 

“I know about Harry.” Ed said calmly, keeping his eyes fixed on Louis’ wrist. “I know what he does. And I know that Charlie probably isn’t your real name.”

 

Louis balked. He’d sobered up a bit due to the fact that it had been so long since his last drink, and the sting from the tattoo gun had begun to clear his head- enough to worry about what the artist said. “Wh- what? How- Does that mean you know who I am?”

 

Ed chuckled, wiping away some of the extra on Louis’ skin with a cloth. “No, should I? I’ve learned that it’s probably better not to ask about Harry’s job, or the people he works with.”

 

“‘M not dangerous, or anything.” Louis said, feeling the need for Ed to trust him and wincing when the needle passed over the soft part of his wrist. “You must know Harry pretty well then, huh? If he told you about what he does?”

 

He shrugged lightly. “I guess you could say that, yeah. There’s only one other person I can think of who knows about his profession other than his family.:

 

They were quiet for a moment, the tattoo gun and the soft music filling up the silence. 

 

Louis furrowed his brow. “Is Harry always so mean?”

 

Ed glanced up from his work, confused. “Harry? I mean, he can be kinda immature but he’s generally a sweet guy unless you’ve pissed him off somehow.”

 

“Oh.” Louis frowned. “So all of the innuendos and stuff, that’s normal?”

 

Ed hummed. “Not really. Not unless he’s drunk and trying to pull.”

 

Well. That was… interesting information. He filed that away for later, assuming that he’d remember much of anything in the morning.

Harry returned just as Ed turned off the tattoo gun, carrying a sandwich and taking a bite out of it. 

 

Louis pouted as Ed wiped off his wrist. “You left me all alone to get a sandwich?” 

 

He shrugged. “I was hungry and the shop down the street is still open.” He took another bite and peered over at Louis’ wrist. “Why’s the rope broken in the back?”

 

“Because we broke it from the anchor.” Ed stated, obviously proud of his work. “It’s poetic. If you drunk idiots are going to split my drawings up, I’m going to put in my artist’s touch.”

 

Louis held his wrist out to be bandaged and stood, sitting up on the counter to the side. “Your turn to be stabbed.” 

 

The green-eyed lad shrugged and sat himself down in the chair, still chewing his food. 

 

“You realize I can’t, focus when you’re eating, right? You’ll have to either unhinge your jaw and inhale that sandwich like an anaconda or get rid of it.” Ed crossed his arms, glaring at him expectantly.

 

Harry looked sadly from his sandwich up to his ginger-haired friend, his face in absolute sorrow. He pitifully handed the sandwich to Louis, who took a quick bite and immediately screwed up his face in disgust.

 

“Gross, tomatoes?”he threw of the remainder of the sandwich in the bin. “How can you stand those.”

 

“They’re healthy for you.” Harry pouted.”That was a perfectly good sandwich you just threw away.”

 

“Yes, I did. Now, wrist out, It’s your turn to get stabbed. Should just be a walk in the park for you, with all the ink you’ve got.”

 

He yielded his wrist to Ed, flinching as the artist fired up his tattoo gun.

 

Louis was a little bit too enthusiastic about watching Harry jump.

*

One thing Louis noticed while Harry was getting his skin inked was that he tended to squirm a lot. It was like he couldn’t sit in the same spot for too long, adjusting himself in his seat every five minutes. Then he’d began to rub at his dilated eyes with his free hand, leg bouncing up and down with a mind of it’s own.

 

“You feelin’ alright, Haz?” Ed asked, turning off the tattoo gun and placing a steadying hand on his upper arm. 

 

Harry nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose.”I’m fine, just a bit woozy.”

 

“Alright. You need to take a break?” He shook his head. “Cool, then. Let’s keep going.”

 

At some point, Harry began to shrink in on himself, trying not to get in Ed’s way but also trying to double his body up. He laid his hand at an awkward angle over the crotch of his skinny jeans, almost as if…

 

_ No way.  _ The prince thought gleefully. Harry had a boner- from a pain kink, apparently. Now, Louis, being the bigger person, wasn’t going to say anything. He was going to take the moral high ground.

 

“Harry, have you been hiding another sandwich in your pants?”

 

He glared at Louis, green eyes staring daggers at him. Ed cleared his throat, refusing to look away from Harry’s hand. “It’s completely normal. More people than you’d think have the exact same reaction.”

 

Louis stifled a chuckle behind his hand but didn’t say anything more, 

*

By the time Ed was finished and wrapping up Harry’s hand, Louis was practically falling asleep where he sat. 

 

Ed stood and stripped his gloves to throw them in the bin, assessing the other two men. He sighed and motioned for the two of them to follow. “Come on, you two. You’ll probably pass out before you get in a cab anyway. Might as well crash here.”

 

He led the two of them to a set of stairs off to the side, unlocking the door as they went up.

 

The flat was decorated much in the same style as the parlor below, all warm and cozy-feeling. There was a large U-shaped couch to the side in quite an alarming shade of orange, but all the same, Louis ignored what Ed was saying and headed straight for the couch, collapsing onto it and passing out without another thought to it.

*

Louis  woke up the next morning to a huge pillow in front of him, surprisingly warm and pressing him up against the back of the couch. His mouth tasted bitter and fuzzy, too much like alcohol and morning breath. The prince squirmed in his position, attempting to free the arm currently pinned underneath him that had fallen asleep. His other arm was throbbing, and could see what looked like a plaster wrapped around his wrist.

 

The fuzzy memory of a tattoo gun buzzing and and sandwich resurfaced then, making him groan and push against the thing in front of it and causing it to roll onto the floor.

 

Harry startled awake. “What the hell was that for?” He threw an arm over his eyes and peaked over at him before shutting his eyes again.

 

“Well, maybe because you were suffocating me with your body.” Louis huffed, attempting to get the blood flowing in his arm again. “And I didn’t really appreciate the surprise spooning.” Harry only shrugged from his spot on the floor. He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the couch, steadying himself on the side when the nausea caught up with him. “Do you know where the loo is?”

 

The green-eyed man gestured vaguely. “Down that hallway, somewhere.”

 

“Wow, thank you. Your input is so helpful.” Louis rolled his eyes and stood, stumbling slightly on his feet. He wandered down the hallway, opening a few doors until he found the loo and was finally able to relieve the pressure on his bladder. 

 

He washed his face and mouth out with the tap, attempting to wipe away the grime from his face. Louis glanced down to his wrist curiously and began to wince when the plaster pulled at his arm hair. The little rope around his wrist was still red around the edges and hurt to touch. If he ever went back to the palace, the PR team was going to rip him a new one.

A ringtone could be heard playing from the living room, causing Louis to pop his head out to find the source of the sound. 

 

Harry was digging around in the pocket of his skinny jeans, eventually finding the smartphone that he claimed was for ‘work appearances only’. 

 

“Hello…?” He said drowsily. He listened for a moment before looking at Louis with wide eyes and one of those ‘oh shit’ faces. “Yeah, yeah of course! We’ll be right there. Yup...yes, see you then Lou. Bye.” He hung up on the call and scrambled to his feet, attempting to straighten out his wrinkled clothing.

 

“What’s up?” Louis asked, making his way back to the living room where Harry was tearing off the bandage on his wrist. 

 

“We’re late for your suit fitting.”Harry said quickly, tossing the plaster in the bin by the sink. “We won’t be able to get another appointment before the party, we have to go now.”

 

“What, like this?” the prince said incredulously. “We both look like we crawled out of a dumpster.”

 

Harry shook his head, opening the door down to the tattoo parlor and motioned for him to move. “Either we go now or we don’t. Lou’s the best at what she does; if we want you to look the part, we have to go.”

 

Louis sighed. “Fine. But you have to go get me tea later.” He rushed down the stairs after Harry, passing Ed and yelling a ‘goodbye’ behind him as they ran out to grab a cab.

 

As they slid into the back seat of the car, he took notice of both he and Harry’s wrists, both red and angry-looking. Harry caught his gaze, peering down to inspect his wrist and Louis’. 

 

“At least we’ll pass as a couple.” He mumbled before telling the cab driver the address, and leaning back against the seat, gingerly poking at his wrist.

 

_ I’m too hungover for this. _

*

The store they arrived at was one like he was used to- all bright lights, expensive furniture and personal assistants to serve your every whim. It was refreshing to be back in his element. 

 

The store was lined with various racks of different styles of clothing, all in various patterns and fabrics. The suits that caught his eye were like something from fairy tales, all elegant and refined-looking. Only a few mannequins were dotted around the shop, yet they were all still quietly eerie. Louis looked around with a feeling of home in his gut. It was bit sad, sure, on how much he relied on luxury, but it was how he was raised. And there wasn’t anything wrong with liking nice things.

 

After Harry greeted the woman at the main desk (using a fake name, he noted), who must have been the Lou he had spoken on the phone with, they were ushered into a private back room with a changing stall set off to the left. Three back-lit, floor-length mirrors surrounded a podium meant to show off all angles of whomever stood in front of it. A few racks had already been set out- Harry had asked for a few options to be laid  out before hand. A large, comfortable looking black couch sat dead in the center of the room, a small table in front with crystal glasses already set out. The walls were a light cream colour black tile floors and wall trim- everything very clean-cut and proper.It was quite the high-class place. Louis was surprised, given Harry’s general hatred of gluttony, that he’d seem to actually enjoy such a place.

 

“All right,” Harry said, rubbing his hands together. “Louis, you probably already know what you’re doing here. Just pick out one you like- something fairly simple, please, it's just a party.”

 

Louis dismissed him with a wave of his hand and began looking through some of the sets on the rack, gratefully accepting a flute of champagne from a scared-looking assistant who scurried out of the room as soon as Harry declined a drink. No way to cure a hangover like more alcohol .He sipped quietly and took a quick glance over his shoulder. Harry was sitting back with his hands locked behind his head, watching him with his eyebrows raised.

 

“What?” the prince asked, turning around to put a put a hand on his hip. “Do I have something on my face?”

 

Harry put his hands up in the ‘I’m not guilty’ position.  “No, no. Just observing the wild royal in his natural habitat.”

 

Louis ‘hmphed’ and turned back, first setting his drink on the table, then grabbing a suit set he liked and taking it back into the changing room. He stripped out of his day-old clothes, feeling a bit strange going from his sweat-stained skinny jeans and t-shirt to the finer material.   

 

He came out a few moments later and stood on the podium, buttoning up his blazer and taking a quick look at his reflection.

 

The set he had chosen was a dark maroon, with a white undershirt and a black tie. Both the sleeves and pant legs would have to be hemmed up, but if he had to say- he looked pretty damn good. 

 

Lou came in to pin a few things up  and take down his measurements, giving the two of them a smile and a promise she would be back in a few minutes. She did good work though, and now the material hugged his thighs and curves and his hands weren’t covered up by the sleeves.

 

Harry stood behind him, the prince watching his movements in the mirror. He whistled. “You look good Louis.” The green eyed man stuck his hands in his pockets and his face turned up into that goofy ‘I have a joke’ dimpled smile. “Dare I say, you look almost like- oh, I don’t know- a prince.”

 

Louis rolled his eyes and smoothed down the wrinkles in his jacket. “What? No sexual innuendo or reference to my bum?”

 

Harry shrugged, but stayed quiet on that. “That should be fine for the party. I’m sure Lou can get it done in time.”

 

“What about you? Don’t you need a fancy getup for the party?”

 

He shook his head. “Nah, I’ve already got a few things back at home.” He cleared his throat, wiping his hand over his face. “But, uh, yeah, that should work. We can grab a pair of shoes on the way home too.

 

Louis fake swooned. “Shoes? You sure do know how to make my gay heart flutter.”

 

Harry chuckled, and Louis was slightly proud in the fact that for once the other man wasn’t being mean or telling him more about how he was awful for not knowing how to do laundry, 

 

Louis quietly looked back at himself in the mirror again. He missed feeling like this, feeling like the charming Prince he’d been raised to be. Sure, he still had bags under his eyes and his hair was put into a sloppy fringe due to the night before.But the suit brought a certain feeling about that he’d missed. He had a certain air about him when he could look the royal part- something that made people either look at him with respect or avert their eyes in fear. He couldn’t get that in regular clothes. He missed feeling important, like he wasn’t just another nameless white blob of a face in any passing stranger’s day. 

 

Still, he had to change. He couldn’t wear the suit all the time, however much he wanted to and how good he looked in crimson. Louis stepped off the podium and headed back towards the changing room. Harry reached out though, grabbing around his upper bicep and stopping him so they could look each other in the eye.

 

“Listen,” Harry whispered. “I’m serious. You look… you look amazing, Lou. No jokes.”    
  
Harry must have read his insecurity and decided to help out, even though he was sure the green-eyed boy’s first instinct would have been to tell him he looked like a rich douchebag- despite the look in his eye like he was desperate for Louis to understand something. 

 

No matter what it was, the sudden display of Harry being nice to him unsettled him. Louis gave a quick ‘thank you’ and darted into the dressing room, quickly throwing on his skull shirt and black jeans. He took a quick glance in the mirror to fix his fringe. His face was all screwed up, eyebrows drawn together and lips pursed like he’d just had pure lemon juice. 

 

Harry even paying him the smallest of compliments was odd, but it had been gradually becoming less and less so. Maybe the stupid tattoos were worth it after all. He didn’t much care- he felt as if maybe he was going to have a friend, someone not connected to his past life and willing to call out his flaws (for a moment he thought of what Zayn would say, about all this, but he pushed the thought away, he didn’t want to think about him now).

 

They left that day with Lou giving them a parting wink and a wave goodbye. She promised to have the alterations done in a few days. 

 

That night before the prince fell asleep he softly touched the rope around his wrist. He suddenly realized that he was missing something- the giant ache in his chest he’d had forever. Louis wasn’t lonely anymore. That hole that had threatened to swallow him whole since he was a kid was slowly being filled up. It was the first time since he left the palace that he felt that his choice was actually worth it. 

 

He didn’t let himself think that it was Harry, though. Didn’t let himself think about how the once annoying smirk when the green-eyed boy laughed at his own jokes had become endearing, how he wouldn’t mind calling Harry a friend. He was still on edge- after all, the man’s job was to lie to everyone he came across. But he was happy for now.

 

Louis fell asleep that night with a grin on his face and his tattooed wrist cradled to his chest.

*

The last week leading up to the party was full of Harry asking him random things about  Zach Markson, his identity for the party, at odd moments of the day. He’d be sitting in the living room watching a show and Harry would sidle up next to him and ask when he was born. He was in the shower once and there was Harry, pulling back the curtain and asking him the name of his character’s mother, without even looking down an inch or commenting in his obvious lack of clothes.He quickly found out that answering wrong got him a pillow to the face.

 

It was over a pizza dinner the night before the party that for once they actually spoke to each other, without the influence of a drink or about the job or just outright exchanging insults in place of an actual conversation.

 

They were both chewing the food, some random documentary about fish playing as white noise in the background.

 

“Why did you become a con man?” Louis asked suddenly, startling the other man from his thoughts.

 

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Does it really matter?”

 

Louis set his paper plate and half-eaten pizza aside, turning to face the other boy. “Of course it matters. I don’t understand how you can just  _ lie  _ to everyone you meet. What made you think that it was a reasonable profession?”

 

Harry sighed and tossed his pizza aside, crossing his arms. “Look, it’s not… I already had a bit of an introduction to the life when I was younger. I was working as an assistant for this rich snob and he’d have me go out and lie to his business partners. Eventually I quit and started working for myself. Pay was better, anyway.” He sounded bitter, angry. “The lying isn’t so bad. I try to only target the people who can afford the loss. I don’t mind lying to them. They’re used to it.”

 

“What about to Lou, that woman at the shop? You lied to her.”

 

He looked away, focusing his eyes on the documentary. “It’s safer for me. And for her. Anyone comes looking after me and finds out my real name, they find the people I trust.”

 

“That’s smart.” Louis frowned. “I guess. But what about-”

 

“Listen,” Harry interrupted. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow and it’s already late. You should get to sleep.”

 

Louis crossed his arms. “You can’t just cut me off when I’m talking to you.” He said angrily. “And you can’t boss me around.”

 

The tall man chucked humorlessly. “Love, that wasn’t me trying to order around. That was me saying that I’m done talking.”

 

“Fine.” Louis huffed, standing. “You don’t need to be such a prick about it. I was trying to be friendly.”

 

He stomped back to the bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed and staring at the ceiling frustratedly. Leave it up to Harry to shut down the minute they start trying to get along.

*

The brand-new Payne Industries hotel was a two hour drive from their flat with L.A. traffic, and the entire time Louis felt he was on the edge of a heart attack.

 

He took a glance at his carefully styled hair in the mirror and found himself wishing he could loosen his tie, the material feeling like it was cutting off his oxygen. “Harry, you better be very confident in your skills. I don’t want to go to jail. Or get beat up by some billionaire’s thugs.”

 

Harry chuckled and grinned at him. “Don’t worry Charming, I’ve got this. I can be quite convincing when I need to be.”

 

Louis nervously twisted the fake wedding ring on his finger, his heart pounding in his chest.  _ He better be right. _

*

Harry pulled up to the hotel in their fancy rental car and handed the keys over to a valet, helping Louis open his door and step out. The front doors were the spinning ones he’d always wanted to go around and around in as a kid, leading to the lobby. The party itself was to be held in the main ballroom, so the two of them stopped in a small alcove by the giant unlit fireplace to collect themselves.

 

Harry adjusted the sleeves of his blazer, a gold geometric pattern covering it and his trousers. “Alright, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re both going to mingle a bit together as a couple. Once Mr. Payne makes his entrance, I’ll slip off so I can talk to him about our business venture. You just need to mingle and look pretty. And stay away from the open bar.” He whispered this lowly, pretending to fuss over a tuft of Louis’ hair that wouldn’t stay behind his ear. 

 

Louis rolled his eyes, slapping his hand away and burying his hands in the pockets of his maroon trousers. “I know, you’ve told me a thousand times. Let's just get on with it before I sike myself out, yeah?”

 

Harry sighed and linked their arms together, leading the other man to the ballroom entrance. 

 

The man in front of the ballroom doors had an earpiece in like the ones Louis’ own bodyguards used to have, his face stern and angry looking. He was probably the type to give an extra punch as he turned them into the police. Louis was in way over his head. 

 

His eyes drilled into them as they approached, visually patting them down for weapons. He didn’t budge from his position, instead clasping his hands behind his back. “Invitations, please.”

 

Harry smiled in that sickly-sweet style of his. “Of course.” he reached for his inner blazer pocket with the hand not looped around Louis’ arm and produced a letter, which he presented to the man. The stone-faced guard  opened it and eyed the writing on the inside critically.

 

Louis held his breath. This was it. They were going to get caught. They were going to get thrown in jail and probably beat up. He was too pretty for prison. He wasn’t built for it. If he and Harry ended up sharing a cell he was going to suffocate him in his sleep for getting him into this mess.”

 

“Have a good evening.”

 

To his surprise and instant relief, the man opened up the door behind him and put their envelope along with a stack of others on the table next to him. The prince offered the man a quick smile, hoping that he couldn’t hear his relaxed sigh as they were allowed in.

 

The party wasn’t what he’d expected. Given the fact that Harry had tried to scare him about the real world, when he heard ‘L.A. premiere party’ he pictured the clubs he’d gone to with Zayn. A general picture of low lighting, shady deals and disgusting bathrooms- maybe slightly nicer because Payne was rich.

 

Instead, Louis was greeted with a lavish ballroom, classic piano music playing softly from the baby grand on the stage. The walls were all covered in fairy lights, each delicate strand connected to the ornate glass chandelier. Everyone was dressed in expensive floor-length gowns and perfectly tailored suits. Any talking was kept low, any laughter to be heard hollow-sounding and forced. The entire room was done in warm tones: gold trimming on the walls and chandelier, cream tiles and paint. The bar was located along the wall to their left, only a few lonely people sitting in front nursing drinks.

 

In short, the entire party was just a lavish overpriced get-together for people with too much money and time on their hands. Louis could feel his posture improving and his smile becoming a permanent fixture on his face, years of training to be the perfect prince taking over.  _ This _ he could deal with. Lying through his teeth at snobby rich people was practically second nature. It felt like home. 

 

Louis smoothed his suit down and lifted his chin, assessing the crowd. No one had really turned to look at them as the door closed, and the few who did either dismissed them quickly or pursed their lips in disdain. 

 

_ Good.  _ Louis thought. _ At least I can root out the homophobes right away. _

 

The two of them made their way into the crowd, both heads held high and chests puffed out. They found their way into a small circle of people towards the center, all with elegant glasses full of fancy alcohol. They seemed to be admiring the chandelier

 

“That boy sure has outdone himself this time.” mused an older lady with her white hair piled in delicate curls on top of her head. “The whole bedroom is absolutely stunning.”

 

The man next to her hummed in agreement, taking a sip from his crystal glass. “Celene keeps asking for one like it for the cabin up in Canada, right above the main staircase.” He shook his head, obviously exasperated by this ‘Celene’ wanting her own chandelier. “I keep saying no because otherwise we’d have to crawl underneath it. The ceiling in the cabin isn’t very high- certainly not high enough for the size of the one she wants.” The businessman chuckled emptily, taking another sip of what Louis guessed to be whiskey or some other hard liquor. The other people standing around them laughed as well, all of it fake and robotic-sounding.

 

When a lull in the conversation finally broke up their talk of rich people problems, the other’s in the circle seemed to notice Louis’ and Harry’s existence, who had thus far been quiet.

 

The man with the slicked back hair who had complained about ‘Celene’ turned to Harry and looked at him quizzically, something in his gaze just a little bit menacing. He painted on a grin that looked like he had been forced to smile with a gun to his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.” He said, his tone clipped and guarded. “Who might you two be?”

 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Louis cut him off. “How rude of me, of course.” He stuck his hand out for the man to shake. “I’m Zach Markson, how do you do?” The man gripped his hand just on the awkward side of too tight and shook it grudgingly. Louis gestured to Harry, who was looking at him with veiled surprise. “This here is my lovely husband Arin.” Harry shook the man’s hand as well, and from the look of his white knuckles had squeezed just a bit too hard. “I don’t believe I know your name either.”  

 

The man, clearly offended that they didn’t know who he was, cleared his throat and shoved one hand into a pocket. “I am John Edwards, the owner of Starlight Tech. The wonderful lady with the white hair is Mrs. Chambers, and the disgusting couple who have been too busy being lovestruck to listen to us are Amber and Megan”

 

The two girls- both in wonderfully form-fitting designer dresses- giggled and turned their gazed to the rest of the group. One of them was quite tall with dark brown skin and naturally curly hair, gold eyeliner surrounding roasted coffee bean eyes.The other was shorter, about Louis’ height with beautiful golden skin and caramel hair that hung in ringlets around her face.

 

Now, Louis didn’t have much of an idea of what it looked like when two people were in love, as he had yet to experience it. One thing he had thought for sure, though, was that people’s eyes didn’t sparkle when they looked at each other like it said in the romance stories.

 

He’d been wrong. Those two looked like their eyes were spotlights, and all they wanted to do was shine on the other, to just appreciate their partner. It made Louis hopeful for a love like that himself. 

 

They gave Louis and Harry a polite greeting and a wave, but for the most part seemed content to stay in their own little world. He noted that neither of them ever let go of the others hand.

 

“So, Zach,” Mrs. Chambers said, drawing his attention back. “What do you do? Assuming, that is, that you’re not just independently.”

 

Louis slid his and Harry’s hands together (happily ignoring the fact that their tattoos lined up) and gave the older lady a smile, squeezing the green-eyed man’s hand before he answered. “We co-own a company.” He said proudly, slipping into the character Harry had created for him. “You might have heard of Imagine It? No? Well, we fund up-and-coming products, make investments in inventors and the like.”

 

Harry kissed Louis on the cheek briefly, the same old dimpled grin on his face like it was stuck that way. “Yup. I like to think that the company was our first child. Started it about a month after we got married, so about two years ago now.”

 

The taller of the two girls off to the side clapped her hands together excitedly. “I’m happy for you two! We don’t see many couples owning companies together. It’s nice that you two work together.”

 

Louis was ready to thank her, but someone clearing their throat loudly into a microphone drew the whole room’s attention. 

 

“Hey, everyone.” The voice said. “Thank you all so much for coming, I’m really excited you could be here. I’m terrible at these things, but you all enjoy yourselves. I’m gonna walk around in a bit so I can thank you all personally.”

 

Liam Payne stood on the stage, dressed to the nines in a navy blue suit that hugged his biceps and broad shoulders. Plump lips were pressed into a smile, hands clasped behind his back.

 

It wasn’t Liam that caught Louis’ eye though. Because, standing next to him holding his hand, dressed to kill in a black dress shirt and trousers with a skinny white tie, was Zayn, grinning with his crinkly-eyed fond smile at Liam.

 

Louis discreetly turned to Harry, alarm bells going off in his head. “You saw him too, right? I’m not hallucinating?” he whispered. 

 

“Yup.” Harry said, his eyes wide and his mouth pressed in a thin line. “Alright, we’re going to have speed this up. I’ll go ahead and talk to Payne now, you go hide in the loo or something. Just don’t let him see you.”

 

The prince nodded stiffly, politely excusing himself to the other people in the group. 

 

It was only once he got into the bathroom that he started to panic.  _ Shit _ . What if Zayn had seen him? Why was he even there? Louis bit down on his lip nervously, pacing in front of the sinks. He could vaguely recall hearing Zayn say something about a guy he lined up a few dates with, but  _ Liam Payne _ ? Man, his luck was shit.

 

It was then that the door opened and he stopped in his tracks. 

 

_ Oh, this is just peachy. _

 

Zayn stood in the doorway staring at him in disbelief. “Louis?” he asked incredulously. 

 

The prince quickly turned and started to wash his shaking hands in one of the ornate sinks, furiously avoiding eye contact. “Louis? Sorry, not me. Must be someone else.”

 

Zayn came to stand next to him. “Louis, what the fuck?”

 

Louis grimaced and shut off the water, turning to his best friend. “Surprise?” he smiled weakly.

 

“‘ _ Surprise?’” _ Zayn cried, his eyebrows furrowing. “Where the hell have you been? Everyone’s been worried sick about you! We thought you might have been kidnapped- hell, your mum almost started a war. We all started to think you were dead. What the hell?”

 

He buried his head in his hands. “Oh god, no, no. None of that was supposed to happen.” He looked at Zayn sadly. “I ran, Z. I left. You know I couldn’ take it anymore- the closet, the expectations, my mum- any of it. I ran.”

 

The anger in his friend’s eyes subsided, if only a bit. Instead, he just looked hurt. It made the prince’s heart pang with guilt. “And you couldn’t bother to tell me? I thought you trusted me. I didn’t- you were dead to me, Lou.”

 

“I am so, so sorry. I didn’t think. The only reason I didn’t tell you was because the way it happened was all so fast, and the way it happened you wouldn’t approve of.”

 

The raven-haired lad narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why wouldn’t I approve of it, Louis? What have you gotten yourself into?”

 

As if on cue, Harry opened the door quickly and shut it behind him, clearly out of breath. “Louis, we need to go. Now.” He finally seemed to process the scene in front of him, his green eyes flicking between the two of them. “Oh. Shit.”

 

Louis smiled at Zayn apologetically. “Sorry, I have to go. Don’t follow me though. I’m fine. I promise, I’m fine.” With that, Louis grabbed Harry’s hand and they ran out of the hotel, Zayn yelling after them as they left.

 

The two of sprinted to their rental car, nabbing the ticket from the valet as they passed, leaving the guy staring after them.

 

Before Louis could even close his car door, the other man was turning the key in the ignition and backing out of the parking lot into the dark LA highway.

 

The prince began to laugh hysterically, his adrenaline finally catching up to him. “What the hell just happened?”

 

Harry grimaced. “Payne caught on, then said he didn’t remember inviting me. I had to run from security. You?”

 

“Zayn went to the toilet and found me, exactly what it looked like” Louis’ face fell and his laughter died away. “My family thinks I’m dead, it seems. And they almost started a war.”

 

“You mean you didn’t anticipate that? You are the crown prince, you know. Kind of important.” Harry said, surprised. “Didn’t you leave a note or something? ‘Don't worry, I wasn’t kidnapped and don’t start a war’.”

 

Louis crossed his arms. “No. I didn’t think about that. I was a little preoccupied worrying about how the hell I was going to get out without being recognized.”

 

Harry sighed, his eyes still on the road. “That was… incredibly irresponsible. People could have gotten hurt.”  He gave Louis a quick sympathetic smile. “But I understand that you were scared.”

 

It made Louis feel a bit better, at least, to have Harry validate his fear. This was steadily becoming more common- the two of them being friendly. Kind. 

 

“So,” the prince sighed. “What now?”

 

Harry shrugged. “We leave. It’s not safe to stay in the state if Payne goes looking for me, and I’d rather not take the chance.”

 

“Then… Where do we go?”

 

Harry smiled, grinning like he was thinking of some inside joke. “I’ve got a mate up in Seattle right now, he just finished a job. He needs a pick up, so we’re gonna go meet up with him.”

 

Louis shrugged. It wasn’t like he had anywhere better to be.

*

He was sad to leave the apartment, despite his disdain for the state of it’s cleanliness when he had first arrived. It had become his home. He liked how the worn old couch  seemed to just swallow you up when you sat down. He liked when he and Harry used the threadbare blankets to cover themselves when they had movie nights. He liked the shadows that bounced off the walls in the mornings. He like the sweet old lady who managed the building and how she’d said he looked like her husband when he was young. It was  _ home.  _

 

Still, he washed the clothes that had begun to collect on the floor around the bed using the machines downstairs and packed up all his belongings up into the same black backpack he’d taken with him when he left the palace. He even folded up his maroon suit and tucked it in, unwilling to leave it behind.

 

He didn’t sleep very well that night, knowing that it was probably the last night he’d spend there for a very long time.

*

They left the first thing the next morning after a quick breakfast of sugary cereal. They ate in silence. Something about that morning was all too final, too much like the end of something.

 

They hit the road just as the morning traffic started up. Harry had used fake ID and stolen credit card for the car so they just used it for the trip instead of dropping it off at the rental place. (Louis didn’t bother to stop Harry from stealing the car or try to make him feel bad about it. He knew by that point it wasn’t going to work.)

 

It had only been ten minutes since they’d gotten on the highway when Louis had a heart attack.

 

Zayn’s head popped up from underneath the the blanket in the back seat, the prince giving an embarrassingly high-pitched scream at his appearance. That, in turn, brought another head popping up beside his raven-haired friend. Louis recognized the strong jaw, bushy eyebrows and full lips instantly as a sense of dread washed over him.

 

“Holy shit.” Harry cursed and pulled to the side of the road. “What the hell? Why are there two rich people in my car? Louis?”

 

Louis raised his hands. “Wasn’t me! I don’t have the slightest.” He turned to the two men behind him. “Why are you here Zayn? And why did you bring your rich boyfriend?”

 

Zayn looked at him stubbornly and sat properly in the seat, strapping his seatbelt on and Liam mimicking his actions. “Louis, you’re my best mate. ‘M not about to let you run off with some guy when I don’t know if you’re actually safe or if you’ve secretly gotten married.”

 

Louis groaned exasperatedly. “I told you I was fine. And, no, I didn’t get married. You’ve yet to explain what the millionaire still in his fancy suit from his party is doing here.”

 

Zayn looked between Harry and Louis, spotting both of their wrists. “Yeah, okay, not dating. And Leeyum followed me because he was worried I was going to get myself killed and didn’t want me to go alone. Plus I promised him that you were with the guy that tried to con him.”   
  


Harry paled at that, eyes quickly flicking over to Liam who’d remained silent during the conversation. “Well, as you can see, Louis is fine. I apologize profoundly for lying to you Mr. Payne, but you two need to leave. I can give you a ride somewhere, but unless you want a free ride to Washington I recommend getting out of the car.”

 

Zayn shook his head. “Uh-uh. No way. You have not explained a thing. I’m staying, and so is Liam.”

 

Louis turned to Liam, his eyebrows raised. “You’re staying?” The man shrugged. “Man, you must be whipped for him.”

 

“I’m not whipped for him.” Liam said, glancing over at the boy next to him. “I’m just worried about him, that’s all. You know, like a healthy relationship and not just running away to be with my con man husband.”

 

Louis narrowed his eyes and turned to Zayn, ignoring the other man. “You know, I don’t think I like him very much. And Harry’s not my husband.” The other man glared at him for the use of his real name, but he ignored it.

 

“I mean, you are wearing wedding bands. And you have matching tattoos.” Liam pointed out very matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

 

“That… alright, fine, we were supposed to be pretending to be husbands. But we’re not.”

 

Harry groaned and frowned at all of them. “Yes, yes, we aren’t married, Zayn and Louis are great friends and all that. We need to be leaving. So, really, get out of the car. We have to go.”

 

Zayn smiled smugly at the green-eyed man, not moving an inch and staring him down. “I already told you. I’m not leaving, and neither is Liam.” He sighed boredly while Harry gaped at him, fish-mouthing. “So, Washington, right? We’d better get going then.”

 

Harry looked incredulously from Zayn, to Liam, then to Louis before turning back to face forward. “You are really turning out to be a hell of alot more work than I thought you’d be.” He grumbled quietly to Louis.

 

He started the car and began to pull back onto the highway, settling the car into awkward silence. 

 

Liam leaned forward between the front seats. “You guys are at least hooking up though, right?”

 

Harry’s hands tightened on the wheel. Even Louis had to admit, it was going to be a long drive.

*

The drive to Seattle was probably hell for Harry, but it was a pretty good time as far as Louis was concerned.

 

After taking an hour to recount all that had happened since he had left (to Harry’s dissatisfaction) and establishing to Liam that they were, in fact, not involved in any way, the four of them seemed to get along as well as could have been expected. Harry had attempted to remain stoic within the first three hours, but after that he couldn’t resist turning every other sentence the other men said into a bad pun.

 

Liam seemed to be pretty friendly, if not a bit reluctant to speak. It was obvious very soon to Louis though, that he and Zayn were still in the disgustingly sweet brand-new-relationship stage. The two of them were sat as close as they could get together, exchanging light touches and teasing banter that Louis monitored from the rearview mirror. Zayn seemed to be happy, and Liam didn’t seem the type to do anything to hurt his friend, so he was satisfied.

 

They stopped for the night a cute little bed and breakfast somewhere in northern California, Harry using the same stolen credit card he’d used for the rental car. Liam had wanted to pay, probably wanting to appear a gentleman in front of Zayn, but Harry shot him down with a pointed glare. 

 

Louis fell asleep that night in a comfortable bed and feeling a bit more complete, a bit happier that he was able to talk to Zayn, to see him again. It also left him guilty though, thinking of his siblings as his mum. He tried to remember what exactly the last thing he said to his family was. He couldn’t remember.

*

The motel they pulled up to the next day seemed to fit the recurring theme in Harry’s con-man lifestyle- dirty and broken down in a dangerous neighborhood. 

 

There was a guy leaning up against a car in the parking lot, dyed-blonde hair and electric blues eyes standing out against the dark grey asphalt and sky. Harry parked up next to him, a genuine smile taking over his face and lighting up his eyes as he turned off the car and pulled the key out of the ignition.  

 

“Niall!” He exclaimed, ducking his head down to exit the car and pulling the shorter man into a hug. Harry shut the car door behind them, muffling their words to the other three passengers in the car. None of them cared much- Louis was closing his eyes and attempting to sleep, absolutely sick of being stuck in a car. Liam was talking quietly to Zayn, whispering something in his ear that made him flick his eyes in concern between Harry standing outside and Louis.

 

“It’s been a bit, mate.” Niall grinned. “Your job with the Queen go well?”

 

Harry smiled nervously. “Yeah, uh… about that…”

 

Niall quirked an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “Yeah? Out with it, what’ve you done now?”

 

“So, uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “The blonde in there may just be the crown prince. And I may have the C.E.O of Payne Industries and the author Zayn Malik in my backseat.”

 

The Irishman snorted. “Yeah, and I’ve got Batman in me trunk. Answer the question, Haz.” 

 

Harry shrugged. “I just did.” he looked at the ground, focusing on a small rock on the ground. Boy, Niall was going to kill him.

 

The smile slipped from the shorter man’s face. “Let me understand this. You have three very influential people in your car, almost all of whom could have us thrown in prison if they found out about us?”

 

Harry cringed. “Yeah, they already know what we do.”

 

Niall shook his head at him and groaned. “Uh… Do you not see the problem with this?! Those people are all the same brand of rich douchebags that you despise. Why the hell are they in your car?”

 

“Long story.” Harry said. “But, basically: the prince is gay, he ran away from the palace and we tried to work a job on Liam Payne together, but that failed and the prince’s best friend is dating Payne so he got recognized. Malik didn’t want his best mate to leave without him again so he hid in the back of my car, and Payne was worried about his new boyfriend so he followed as well. I needed to come pick you up and they wouldn’t leave so… here they all are.”

 

Niall nodded, stroking the stubble on his chin and shaking his head again. “Yeah. Okay. You’re crazy. Absolutely batshit.”

 

“Yeah, I know, but-”

 

Niall smiled and punched his shoulder, his demeanor instantly changing from stoic and disbelieving to happy and full of his regular sunshine. “You’re a genius man, absolutely brilliant. “The Queen has put up a reward in quietly for someone who can  bring her son back. You probably figured that out though, right? I take off for one job by meself and you go and plan to turn in the prince for profit.”

 

Harry grinned hollowly. “Yeah. That’s the plan, obviously. He was even some help to me, though the job went to shit.”

 

Niall quickly glanced at Louis over Harry’s shoulder, the boy practically dead to the world at that point. “I mean, we snag the reward from the Queen and we could pay Cowell off and finally be rid of the old rat.” He smacked a kiss to Harry’s temple. “I love you man, you’re brilliant.” With that, the blonde boy bounded off into his motel room, the excited smile never leaving his face.

 

_ Shit _ . Harry thought.  _ What did I just do?” _

_ * _

_ “ _ So, where to now, Harold?” Louis asked that night, sitting on the edge of the motel bed they were going to have to share that night and crossing his legs at the ankles.

 

“Well,” He said. “We are going to visit my boss, of sorts.”

 

“Your boss?” Louis said quizzically. “I thought one of the main points of you being a con man was that you didn’t have a boss?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Well, yeah, that’s the general idea of it.” He said. “But Niall and I got into some trouble after a job a while back, this bank over in Miami. We got caught and needed to get our records wiped if we wanted to be able to work again. We called in a favor to this guy named Cowell. He did it, but at a price. We’ve been paying him back since. I think, though, that we’ve finally made enough to quit being his puppet and paying him a large portion of my job money. I’ve gotta go visit him to pay him back, so we’re headed to Chicago.”

 

The prince nodded. “Alright. This Cowell guy sounds like a douche, by the way. How long have you been trying to pay him back?”

 

“About half a year now.”

 

Louis made a sour face. “Definitely right. Douche.”

 

Harry chuckled, zipping closed the duffel bag he’d been rooting through to find his toothbrush. “Yes, absolutely a douche. We’ve also got another quick little job to do while we’re there, so we’ll be staying for about a week.”

 

The blue-eyed man perked up at that, wriggling in place excitedly. “Ooh, what are we doing this time?”

 

Harry lifted the strap of the bag up and tossed it back on the floor. “Actually, I think Niall and I can deal with it on our own.”

 

His face fell. “Oh.”

 

The other man sighed and shook his head, sitting next to him. “No, no, it’s not  like that. They guy we’re going after is dangerous, and no offense, but you aren’t really prepared to deal with him. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

Louis smiled softly. “Thank you, Harry. You do have a heart.” Harry grumbled  something under his breath, but Louis ignored him. “What do you expect me to do, then? Sit in a room by myself for a week like last time?”

 

“Ah, don’t worry about that. It’s mainly the prep time that’s keeping us there so long, we’ll be staying somewhere with you for most of the week.”

 

Louis grinned. “That sounds like a plan. I would actually die if you made me sit in some motel room bored out of me mind.” Harry chuckled and knocked their shoulders together. They were quiet a moment, content to sit in silence while both inspecting how close their tattoos were to each other. 

 

“So,” Harry said, turning towards the head of the bed. Surprisingly, the motel had been out of rooms with two beds, leaving Harry and Louis to share. “Are we going to end up spooning again? Because you should know I prefer to be the little spoon.”

 

Louis rolled his eyes and dragged himself farther up the bed to untuck the covers, already in a pair of comfortable grey joggers and an old t-shirt he stole from Harry at the beginning of his stay. “Fine. But if you end up suffocating me in the night, I can and will come back to haunt you.”

 

Harry grinned at him, famous dimples making an appearance. “Good to know.” He stood and went back over to the sink to brush his teeth before sliding under the cool sheets next to Louis. 

 

The prince knew that the green-eyed lad had probably only been joking when he’d talked about spooning, but nonetheless he slipped in right behind him and tucked his face into the other’s neck. It was grossly intimate, especially considering they hadn’t even wanted to be in the same room as each other only a month ago.

 

Louis didn’t mind.

*

It was Chicago where it all went to shit.

Liam and Zayn, satisfied that Louis was in no danger and that Harry wasn’t a threat to his wellbeing (and secretly placing bets with Niall  on when the two of them would get together) took off once they got to Chicago to Liam’s penthouse that he’d gotten for business trips. They’d let Harry off the hook from attempting to con Liam after a  _ very _ long road trip in which the five of them got along like they’d been friends for years. Harry’s general disdain for rich people relaxed after Niall joined them, seemingly putting him at ease.

It was weird. In those short days spent stuck in the car, he felt a little more complete than he had been. Like he’d stumbled upon people who truly made him happy.

And Harry, well. Harry was letting him in. Little facts about his childhood slipped out during conversation, his sister and his mum. The reasons behind his tattoos, the reason he wore hawaiian shirts with odd patterns on them. Just tiny little facts that built up to a person that wasn’t the one Louis thought it was. It was a little bit happier, a little less pessimistic.

Driving with the four other lads was some of the best fun he’s had. Niall was apparently the kind of person who still made mixtapes on CD’s, and had brought a few with him. The group favorite was the ‘Blast from the 80’s’ disc, which always ended with them singing ‘Take On Me’ to the best of their abilities.

As well, Liam, being the gentleman he was, gave the three others rooms to stay in at one of his hotel branches in the area. The rooms were both lavishly furnished in a modern style, both with spanning views of the city. Liam also apparently thought he was really funny, and booked both rooms with single beds. Niall had immediately called dibs on being by himself, leaving Harry and Louis to share a room again.

The two of them didn’t mind all that much. If anything they were just annoyed at the other three. Louis wasn’t complaining. He found he slept better with someone beside him instead of sitting alone replaying the day in his head till he fell asleep. He’d never really laid down and fell asleep next to another person without it being preceded by some sort of sexual act or another. It was a good change, as far as he was concerned. Harry didn’t seem to be complaining, anyway.

The job that Harry and Niall were working required them to replicate some old painting that Louis had never heard of. It was fascinating to watch them work, Niall doing most of the painting and Harry artificially aging the paper and the frame around it. They planned on selling it to a private collector who had practically hired an entire army to protect his gallery. They’d spend hours on the painting at a time in the bathroom that they’d turned into a studio, only leaving for food or sleep. It wasn’t as dull as the prince had thought it would be.

It was on the day that they had planned the meeting with the collector that something changed, the dynamic that Harry and Louis had. They’d become friends over the course of their time together, something that the prince was incredibly happy about. He was one of the few people that Louis was sure liked him not just because he was a prince. Actually, it was despite the fact that he was a prince that Harry liked him, in a weird turn of events.

It was late evening when Harry came back, panting heavily and alone. The strands of his hair that had grown out were plastered to his forehead with sweat. The nice suit he’d gone in was mussed up and wrinkled, missing the blazer. The alarming part that drew Louis’ attention was the blood that was seeping through the white dress shirt by his hip and on his shoulder.

The prince jumped up from his spot on the lounge chair in front of the television, running to Harry as the other man leaned against the wall and made his way to the bathroom. 

“What happened?” Louis asked worriedly and Harry gingerly lifted himself up to sit on the counter. “Where’s Niall?”

Harry began to unbutton his shirt, wincing as he raised his shoulder up. “He figured me out, the collector. Sent some thugs to shoot at me till I left.” He tugged the shirt off and inspected his hip. “They grazed me a little bit, but I’ll live. As for Niall, he stayed. The collector hasn’t caught him yet, he’s gonna finish the deal.”

Louis gingerly touched the area around the cut on Harry’s shoulder, cringing as the other man hissed at the contact. “I thought you guys went in together?”

The green-eyed man shook his head and slapped Louis’ hand away when he tried to touch it again. “No. I was supposed to be another interested buyer, try to make him pay more. As you can see, that went to shit.”

The prince could feel his heartbeat picking up and flitted his hands around Harry’s body, checking for any  more damage. “Ok, so he’s alright. But what about you?” Louis said, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re bleeding. How- How do I help?”

“I didn’t actually get shot, so we just need to clean them up. They’re not that deep either, so you won’t be needing to give me stitches like the movies.” Louis relaxed a bit, half expecting for that to be exactly what he had to do. “Just get some rubbing alcohol from my bag and a flannel and we’ll be fine.”

“Why do you have rubbing alcohol?” Louis asked over his shoulder as he left the bathroom to root through Harry’s bag for the large bottle, returning a moment later and grabbing a clean flannel from the stack by the sink. 

Harry chuckled dryly as Louis poured a bit of the liquid onto the fabric. “Day’s like this one when I don’t want to get an infection.” He hissed as the other man pressed the cloth next to the wound on his shoulder, closing his eyes and scrunching his eyes up. “Shit.  _ Fuck. _ Lou, that hurts.”   
  


“I know, I know.” he said apologetically and dabbing around his chest and side to clean up the little trails of red that had slipped down. “I thought you liked pain,” Louis said jokingly, attempting to  distract Harry before moving down to clean the bullet scrape on his hip. 

The other man groaned and doubled over, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder. “God, I hate you. I thought you wouldn’t remember that.” Harry fisted his hands in Louis shirt as he pressed the flannel down again, knuckles turning white.

Louis winced and pulled the cloth away. “You really shouldn’t say you hate me when you’re at my mercy.” Harry chuckled at that, putting a hand up to squeeze Louis’ bicep

He lifted his head from the prince’s shoulder and quirked an eyebrow. “And you like that do you?”

Louis rolled his eyes and ignored him. “I think the bleeding’s stopped. How are you feeling?” The shorter lad lifted his eyes from where they had been inspecting the damage done to Harry’s body.and found the other man’s face very close to his. From there he could see every fleck of gold and brown in Harry’s eyes.

Harry smiled lightly, dimples making a fantastic appearance. “I’ll live, I think.”

Louis doesn’t quite know what happened next, because one moment he’s watching Harry’s face and trying to name all the colors in his eyes, and the next there’s no more space between them and those cotton-candy pink lips are on his own. 

It caught him off guard, but he closed his eyes anyway as Harry’s hand came up to cradle his head. It felt  _ real. _ So unlike the other kisses he’d had, the ones that he’d been too drunk and had been too rushed to enjoy. This was soft. The world didn’t stop and there weren’t any fireworks in his belly, but that feeling he’d had when he first met Harry returned. It was intense and burning, and it made him want to scream and yell. But it was different, somehow. He didn’t want to strangle him any more. He wanted to get as close as he could to Harry until you couldn’t tell they were two separate people anymore.

It clicked in both of their heads, then. It was something neither had felt before.

_ Ah, _ Louis thought.  _ So that’s what it feels like. _

That night they didn’t take their normal sleeping positions with Louis curled behind Harry’s long body. It was partially because it hurt the green-eyed man to lie like that, but he thinks it was also because the two of them wanted to face each other.

Louis fell asleep under the crook of his unhurt arm, head pressed to Harry’s heartbeat.

It was the best he’d slept in a while.

*

Simon Cowell lived in a private estate outside of Chicago, the absolute picture of rich living. The driveway was a roundabout circled around a hedge of flowers, each trimmed to perfection and not a single dead leaf on them. The mansion itself was huge, with large windows the entire length and ornate double doors covering the entrance.

The sight of the place clearly made Harry and Niall uneasy, both of them eying the mansion like it was about to come alive and eat them alive.

They rolled up in Niall’s car and were escorted inside by a stoic-looking butler, only leaving them with a ‘wait here’ when he led them into a lavishly furnished sitting room. None of them sat, standing awkwardly in a group and looking around aimlessly at the bookshelves and display cases.

The man that walked in looked, to Louis, like leaking water balloon. His cheeks were botoxed up and his pecs looked like they had implants in them. He had salt and pepper hair and a greying beard, wearing a white t-shirt that looked too tight.on him. 

“Hello boys.” he said with a smirk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Harry thrust an envelope at him, one of the large orange ones, filled with cash. “Here. We’ve come to pay of the rest of your fee. That should be enough.” He clenched a fist at 

his side. Niall whipped his head around to Harry, suddenly confused.

“Haz,” the blonde boy whispered. “What about-”

“Not now.” Harry hissed back, elbowing him in the ribs. Louis gave the both of them curious glances.

Simon chuckled, not even looking inside the envelope before putting it on the table next to him. “Ah boys,” he said, an eerie smile on his face. “Of course your debt is paid off.” Harry visibly relaxed next to him. “On one condition.”

Harry clenched his jaw. “What?”

Cowell nodded toward Louis. “You give me the prince and let me collect his reward money.”

Louis paled and turned to Harry, eyes wide. “Reward money? What-” Harry looked at his shoes, avoiding his eyes. “Did you know about this?”

Harry nodded slightly, lifting his head with worry in his eyes. “Yes, but-”

The prince could almost feel steam coming out of his ears. “You knew and you didn’t tell me? Did you not think that it was important? Or did you plan to turn me in?”

Simon sighed. “As much as I love drama, I really don’t have time for this. Harry, what’s your choice?”

Louis turned to him, blue eyes angry and violent. “Listen here you talking rat, I’m a person, yeah? I’m not some fucking peice of art. So he doesn’t get to choose. I do. And my answer is no, you douche.”

With that, Louis turned on his heel and stomped back to the car with the other two trailing after him. They drove back to the hotel in silence.

Louis slept in the car that night, too stubborn and angry to be around Harry or Niall.

*

When Louis woke, the first thing he intended to do was get up and apologize to Harry. He could at least give him a chance to explain, right?

Instead of the car, though, he was met with unfamiliar surroundings when his eyes opened. It was still a lavish bedroom, but the walls were crimson and the floor was a lush carpet. The winking red light of a camera above the door watched his movements. 

Louis quickly swung his legs over the side of the bed, still in just the joggers he fell asleep in. The window behind him let in the morning glow between bars. He could feel his chest constricting with each breath as his new surroundings slowly sank in.  _ Where the hell am I? _ He thought.  _ More importantly, where’s Harry? Or Niall, for that matter. _ His fists clenched at his side as he stood, glancing warily at the camera watching him before trying the door in front of him. It shouldn’t have surprised him that it didn’t budge, but he still let out a shaky breath as he attempted to compose himself. He’d been taught to handle situations like this, he would be fine.    
  


He wasn’t just worried about himself though. Maybe that’s why he was panicking. 

The only other door in the room led to a bathroom with a startlingly large tub and separate shower. Louis, shaking with frustration and fear, went to the one barred window by the bed he had awoken in, peeking out in hopes of recognizing where he was.

A quick look told him he was where he had been only last night, before his fight with Harry- at Cowell’s mansion, the same too-perfect arrangement of flowers in the drive. Three people were standing by the entrance, two side by side in front of a car and the other with his back to Louis. The two by the car he recognized immediately and let out a sigh of breath knowing that Harry and Niall were both safe. The man in front of them must have been Simon, given Harry’s sour expression and Niall’s frown. They must have been looking for him and were coming to sort all this out right?

Louis banged on the window, just to be sure Harry knew he was there. If he did, he didn’t turn his head and continued to say something to Simon, his lips curled in a snarl and his arms crossed aggressively. Cowell seemed to brush him off with a wave of his hand, and a few moments later Harry’s face fell and he began to get back into the car without another word. Niall placed a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off and slammed the car door to the drivers side shut. The Irish lad gave one more angry glare at Cowell before getting in the car as well.

_ No, no, no! _ Louis panicked to himself. He hit the glass, more rapidly this time and harder.  _ I’m up here! Can’t you see me you idiots? Don’t leave! Don’t- _

The car pulled out of the driveway, Simon turning around and giving him a twisted smile upon looking up at his window. Louis wished he could jump down from the window and strangle that overly-botoxed rat with one of the many white t-shirts in his collection. He must have done this, he knew it. Cowell must have lied to Harry and told him that Louis was waiting for him somewhere else. He wouldn’t just leave him if he knew he was there. Right?

After a few moments of Louis sitting on the end of the bed plotting Simon’s death, the devil himself opened his door with a scary-looking bodyguard following behind him and blocking the door.

“Ah, good morning little prince.” Cowell said, his arrogance and overconfident smirk even more annoying than usual. “I’m glad you’re finally awake. Is the room to your liking?”

Louis was shaking, both out of fear and of anger. “What the hell, Cowell? Why did I wake up locked up here? What did you tell Harry?” He balled his fists at his sides as he stood. “You do realize that he’s going to look for me right? And when he does, we’ll have a fucking party shoving your stupid blazer down your throat.”

The rat only chuckled, his mouth curled up in amusement. “Harry did warn me about your mouth. Nothing I can’t handle though.” He sniffed, clasping his hands behind his back. “He won’t be coming for you, you might as well sit down and make yourself at home.”

“What- What do you mean?”

“He’s the one who gave me the go-ahead to ah… house you here.” He said, like the answer was obvious. “He turned you in. You knew about the reward, right? The man cons for a living, what did you expect?”

Louis sat back down on the bed, feeling like a puzzle turned upside down and the pieces falling apart. He shook his head in denial. “No. No. He wouldn’t do that. He-”

“Planned to bring you here from the start.” Simon interrupted. “He’s gonna get a nice cut of the pay too, once we get you all fixed up and returned to our dearest queen.”

Louis was looking down at his hands, at the rope on his wrist. He wouldn’t. Harry wouldn’t have done that. All those nights spent in hotel rooms, the small little whispers on each other’s skin, the little kisses on the nose and forehead, they weren’t just an act. They couldn’t be. 

Cowell laughed at his fallen face, putting a hand against his cheek in mock surprise. “You didn’t think he actually gave a shit about you, right? The con he pulled off with the queen plus his cut from this is enough for him to retire happily on some tropical island.” The rat sneered and got closer to him, spray-tanned face disgustingly close to his own. “You’re just the spoiled brat from the palace. You were nothing more than a paycheck.” 

“You’re wrong.” Louis said quietly. “It’s not true. You lie. That’s what you do.”

“Oh really?” the other man stepped back. “Well, you keep on thinking that. But you’re going back to the palace in a week, regardless if you continue to believe that the man who lies for a living would change in any way for you.”

With that and a motion of his hand, both he and the bodyguard left, closing the door behind him and leaving the room in silence.

_ It’s not true.  _ Louis told himself, sitting against the back of the best and tucking his knees under his chin.  _ He wouldn’t do that. Harry would never. _

He hoped maybe if he repeated himself enough that the doubts poking at him and scoffing at his mantra would go away.

_

It was about two days before Louis let himself believe Simon. It was sad, how little time it took to accept that Harry had never cared about him. It didn’t help that the last fight they ever had was about the reward.

It broke him. He felt betrayed, felt like that hole that Harry had started to fill had turned into a wormhole that was devouring everything inside of him. 

People came and went from his room- just staff to bring food and clean clothes, he noticed. They rarely spoke to him, and he never to them. He couldn’t bring himself to do much more than stare at a wall or at the door. He didn’t even fight. He didn’t see the point of it. After all, all they were doing was taking him home, back to the place he shouldn’t have even left in the first place.

He scoffed at himself. Like he’d leave the palace and magically find his soulmate. His life wasn’t one of the fairy tales. The universe had made that very clear to him.

When Harry first kissed him, he felt like he was flying, like he was soaring through the sky and the only things in the world that mattered were green eyes and impossibly pink lips.

Now he felt beaten. He felt as if he’d been thrown to a pack of wolves, each taking a bit and ripping out a part of him. He was in a million pieces. 

He never thought he’d regret his freedom. Then again, all those nights staring at the stars and arguing about nothing and sharing a bed, he had no idea it was all a lie. His freedom wasn’t worth betraying everyone who ever cared about him, not when all it had done was kick him into the dust by exactly the same kind of love he’d hoped to find.

He refused to cry, even though his eyes burned and threatened to spill over. Louis didn’t want to give Cowell the satisfaction of seeing him like that. Instead, he tucked his chin into his chest and let the telly on the wall create white noise. 

He got the message from the universe. He was tired.

*

Someone came in and dyed his hair brown again, back to it’s original  chestnut brown and trimmed it to exactly the length it had been when he left. Another person came in with an apologetic smile and covered up his tattoo with makeup, the one he’d gotten with Harry that stupid drunk night that seemed like a lifetime ago. It was almost like he’d never left. Louis just wished they could erase memories as well. 

All he wanted to do was go home. No doubt he’d  get a very stern lecture from his mum, as well as the PR management and probably put on some form of house arrest. It didn’t bother him so much. He was sick of unfamiliar faces and voices and rooms. He wanted to see his sister's again, his mum, Zayn. He wanted to forget he ever met any stupid arsehole named Styles.

*

Like he’d expected, the day he returned home he got chewed out for well over an hour. It didn’t phase him much though. He was home. He was with his family. He should be happy, right? 

He wasn’t. There was a little hole in his chest that used to feel like home. It wasn’t there anymore. 

The days afterward blended together, full of pap walks and stunts to assure the world he’d never been gone in the first place. His mum found out he was gay, of course. She’d accepted him, tearing up at the idea that he felt like he couldn’t tell her. He was relieved, at least, that his mum hadn’t disowned him like he feared.

He always wore long sleeves or concealer on that stupid tattoo. Zayn returned after he found out he’d come home. Louis didn’t even tell him what happened until almost a month had passed since they’d seen each other. After that, Zayn just left again. Louis couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

*

One of his punishments for running away was his least favorite activity- taking over the Queen’s meetings by himself. He knew he’d end up having to do them alone one day or another, but he hadn’t expected it so soon. Faces and voices blurred together, so much so to the point that Louis barely even bothered to focus his eyes on the person entering the room. All he did was listen to their spiel and either approve or deny them.

It had been two months since he’d seen Harry. It was getting better, like his mum had said it would after telling his story and about the boy with the ridiculous green eyes. It was getting easier not to see things and think of him, to cover up the tattoo on his wrist and pretend it wasn’t there. But it still hurt, like a bruise that left an ugly purple mark on his skin that ached as it healed.

So when a certain voice introduces itself as a Monsieur Valls, Louis’ head snaps up from where it had been leaning on his hand, eyes focusing on the stupid geometric suit that he recognized from the party, on the hair that had finally grown out to his jaw and started to have little ringlets that curled behind his ears.

“H- harry?”

Harry nervously took another step towards him, running a hand through his hair. “Actually, I’d prefer Monsieur Valls for now, if you don't mind.”

Louis set his jaw and stood, taking a step closer to him and pointing an accusing finger. “You… you arsehole! You fucking prick! Who gave you the fucking right to waltz back in here after what you did?”

Harry reached out a hand to touch Louis’ arm, but the prince pulled away. “Please, Lou, let me explain-”

“Don’t call me Lou.” He said disgustedly. “You don't get to do that anymore.”

Harry looked at  him brokenly, as if he had the right to. “Please, Louis…”

Louis scoffed, crossing his arms. “Let me guess, the money got too tempting, right? I bet Cowell paid you a fair bit for turning me in.” His voice began to waver, angry tears threatening to spill  over. “It’s funny. You became one of the money hungry bastards you claim to hate.”

Harry ran a hand over his face, his voice tired and quiet. “I didn’t turn you in.”

Louis continued, not breaking his rant. “Give me one good reason I don’t turn you into the police right now- wait, what?”

“I didn’t turn you over to Cowell.”

Louis eyed him suspiciously. “But- but he said-”

Harry sighed, rubbing a thumb over the anchor on his wrist. “He told me you left. That you decided to go back to your posh life in the palace.”

“What? No I- He literally kidnapped me while I was sleeping and kept me locked in a room.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head. “God, Louis… I didn’t look for you. I could’ve- If I hadn’t believed him-”

Louis stopped him stepping closer and squeezing his hand. “Look, I fell for it too. He saw me blow up and used it to his advantage. Why did you come back though, if you thought I left?”

Harry chuckled at that. “Zayn and Liam actually hunted me down. Told me what Simon told you. Turns out having rich friends can be useful.” He shook his head. “I had to tell you the truth.”

Louis smiled, pressing their foreheads together giddily. “And now? Now that you’ve told me the truth and I don’t want to murder you anymore?”

Harry grinned softly. “Well Charming, how about here?” He grabbed the lapels of Louis’ suit and pressed their lips together. That same burning feeling returned within him, a feeling he didn’t know he could miss so much.

_ This is what I wanted my freedom for.  _ Louis thought.  _ I found it. _ He deepened the kiss with Harry, pulling him as close as he could. 

_ I found him. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come check me out on tumblr! angels-vevo.tumblr.com


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